


30 Day McDanno Challenge - First Time Version

by Leslie_Knope



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, 30-Day Fic Meme, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 50,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy holidays, and welcome to the 30 Day McDanno Challenge! Lord knows I can't stay away from the first time genre, so this will be a collection of unrelated fics, all with a first time theme. All of the prompts are from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/">stellarmeadow</a>'s new list, so be sure to follow her challenge, too!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1 - Going Shopping

“Wait, where the hell are you going?”

Danny blithely ignores him as he leans forward, peers around the corner, and makes a careful left turn into traffic.

“But Peterson’s place is the other way,” Steve says, pointing behind them unnecessarily.

“That is correct,” Danny says with an exaggerated nod, “but we can’t talk to him for another two hours. And in this traffic, it doesn’t make sense to go all the way back across town to the office. So we’re running an errand.”

“An errand.”

“Yeah, an errand,” Danny says, shrugging. “That’s what I said.”

“What kind of errand?”

“I need to buy a bed.”

“A bed,” Steve says flatly.

“Seriously, are you broken or something?” Danny says, reaching over to poke him hard on the shoulder, in a vain attempt to restart him. “You’re just repeating what I’m saying to you. Yes, a bed.”

“Why do you need a bed?”

“I’m increasingly convinced that all the gunfire has given you brain damage. Do you not remember helping me move last weekend? New apartment? With actual bedrooms? Ringing a bell? Hence the need for a new bed.”

“Why are we doing this now?”

“I’m going to let that question slide since you’ve never had the privilege—and yes, it’s a privilege, stop it with that look—of sleeping on that pull-out. If you had, you would understand my haste to get a real bed as soon as fucking possible. Yesterday, preferably, but today will have to do.”

“See, this is what happens when I let you drive,” Steve says with a huff as he crosses his arms.

“ _Let_? That’s a bit of a stretch. I stole your keys from your office this morning when you were in the bathroom, and you’ve been sulking about it ever since. When the fuck did you get those made, anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says absently, his eyes busy scanning the parking lot for a spot. “There might be one over there.”

“And there’s one right here,” Danny says as he pulls into a spot in the back row.

“But that one’s closer to the store.”

“You practically swim around the island every morning. Is an extra 30 yards really going to kill you?”

“No, furniture shopping is going to kill me,” Steve says, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary.

Danny rolls his eyes with a snort. “You can throw your temper tantrum later, princess, come on. I don’t trust you unsupervised—you’re like a four-year-old, but worse because you’re armed.”

“Why are you making me do this?”

“Consider it punishment for making unauthorized copies of my car keys,” Danny says dryly. “Ooh, look, they put the furniture store right next to the mattress store, how convenient is that.”

Danny heads for the furniture store first, but Steve grabs his arm and steers him toward the mattress one instead. “You should do this one first.”

“Since when are you the bed-buying expert?”

“Uh, when I bought one last year,” Steve says as he drags him through the door. “You get it, get out, then you’re done. Boom, we’ll be done in 20 minutes, minimal casualties.”

“You just like to turn things into military operations for fun, huh?”

“You can’t hate on the efficiency, Danno. Let’s go.”

“You named it, didn’t you?” Danny says, grinning, and Steve snorts.

“Yeah, Operation Danny is an Asshole. Come on.”

Danny surveys the truly alarming amount of mattresses in the large space and winces. A salesman preys on his fear—they can smell it, he swears—and approaches them. “Hi, there, gentlemen. Can I help you?”

“Yes, we’re looking for a bed,” Steve says smoothly, and the guy smiles, clearly happy that he’s found his next victims.

“Wonderful, here, come with me.”

“We?” Danny mouths, but Steve is already following the guy across the showroom. Danny lifts his eyes heavenward and follows.

“So what size are you looking for?” the guy asks.

“Uh, a full,” Danny says, and he nods.

“A full? Really, Danny?” Steve says, tilting his head, but Danny ignores him.

“Over here on this back wall are several of our most popular models, in a variety of types. Those few on the right are thicker, which we recommend for our larger customers. I’ll give you two several minutes to test them out, please let me know if you have any questions.”

“Did he just call me  _large_?” Steve hisses, after the salesman is out of earshot.

“Well, I don’t think he was talking about me,” Danny says, and he can’t hold back a laugh at the murderous look on Steve’s face. “You  _are_  a fairly large human being. Don’t take it personally, you’re still the prettiest one of all. And what, no complaints about how he’s assuming you’ll be in my bed?”

Steve shrugs carefully, looking away, and Danny files that one away to think about later. Sometimes he really thinks Steve is flirting with him, and it often throws him for a loop. Would he be amenable?  _Fuck_ yes, but he hasn’t yet found the courage to do anything about it himself. Danny sometimes tries to suss out Steve’s feelings, but he truly has no idea if he flirts with him sometimes or if he just has a bad grasp of normal social behaviors.

Speaking of the emotionally-challenged Neanderthal, he walks up to the first mattress and promptly falls onto it, spread out on his stomach like a starfish.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you octopus? Do you know nothing about proper bed etiquette?” Danny says as he lies down on the bed like a proper human being, shoving aside Steve’s arm and leg to do so.

“This would not be an issue if you were getting a king,” Steve mumbles, the words muffled by the mattress.

“Urgh, this is too soft,” Danny says, shifting restlessly. “I feel like I’m falling into a hole. Next one, let’s go.”

Steve repeats his sprawl on the next bed, but Danny only lies on it for about half a second before he levers back up. “Nope, way too hard. Reminds me of the pull-out.”

Steve groans and slides off the bed. “Man, you are picky.”

“I am entitled to be picky, you spend about a third of your life in your bed. Well, not  _you_. And not me, either, thanks to you. But normal people with normal jobs.”

“Well, let’s hope this is the one because my patience is running out.”

“Oh, this is you being patient?” Danny says. Glaring at him, Steve pushes him onto the bed and rearranges them into kind of a slumped-over spooning position, with Steve tucked behind him and mostly on top of him. Dazed, Danny just looks down at Steve’s forearm, currently wrapped around his waist, and doesn’t resist. He absently notes that Steve smells really good.

“Uh, babe, what are you doing?” he asks, trying to angle his head so Steve can actually hear him.

“The best way to test out a bed is to assume the position that you actually sleep in,” he says, sounding eerily calm.

“You know we don’t actually share a bed, right?” Danny asks. Steve snorts but doesn’t answer him. Is this the McGarrett style of flirting? Just literally  _come on_  to a person in bed and hold them captive with your wiles and your biceps?

“I like this one, you should get it,” Steve says before lifting himself off Danny and rolling off the bed.

Danny lies there for an extra couple seconds, mourning the loss of Steve’s weight. Fuck it, this one will do. He eventually sits up and finds the salesman to place an order.

* * *

It only takes Danny about 20 minutes to pick out a bed frame, and soon they’re back in the car. Sometime in the last 45 minutes, Steve had snitched Danny’s car keys out of his pocket, that ninja, so he’s happily lounging in the driver’s seat.

“So, you need help breaking in that bed?” Steve says, and that little half-smirk he’s got going on really should not be so attractive.

“Huh? I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to be delivered until next week...” Danny says, pretending to be obtuse. The effort it takes to keep his face blank is completely worth it, though, to see Steve’s face scrunch up into a new version of aneurysm face, one that says “why isn’t this person responding to my flirting.” Danny hasn’t seen that one before, it’s a pretty fun one.

“Seriously, Danny, I swear—”

“I was just doing the world a service by pointing out what a  _truly_  terrible line that was,” Danny interrupts, and maybe he rambles when he’s a little nervous, okay? “I mean, for the love of god, that is the most clichéd—”

Clearly fed up with words for the time being, Steve growls and interrupts far more effectively, leaning over and sealing his mouth over Danny’s. Danny inhales sharply, surprised, but gets with the program quickly and sneaks a hand into Steve’s hair. Steve licks into his mouth immediately—zero to 60, no surprise there—but Danny tries to snag some control back by nipping at Steve’s lower lip. The little moan that Steve then releases into his mouth is immensely gratifying, and Danny can’t help but smile into the kiss as he brushes a thumb against the stubble lining Steve’s jaw.

He pulls back with a laugh, feeling like he’s nine fucking feet tall, and pats Steve on the thigh. “Come on, let’s go talk to Peterson, and then I’ll introduce you to the pull-out. It’s great, you’re gonna love it.”


	2. Day 2 - Holding Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the past few weeks, I’ve been casually gathering ideas for a 30-day challenge, using the old list. I was able to transfer almost all of my ideas to [stellarmeadow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/)’s new list, but I couldn’t let go of a couple so I’m changing two prompts! Instead of “going to a PTA meeting” for today, I’m using “holding hands.”

“Danno, he for sure went in this tunnel,” Steve says softly. He creeps forward several steps but pauses when he doesn’t hear Danny beside him. Turning around, Steve sees Danny completely frozen, the whites of his eyes showing as he shakes his head back and forth. Oh, fuck, his claustrophobia.

“Oh, no way,” he says, backing up a couple steps as he throws up his hands. “I am _not_ going in there, definitely not.”

Steve tries to ignore the instinctive part of his brain—the part that’s screaming at him, _the guy’s getting away!_ —and instead steps toward Danny. “It’s okay, buddy. You don’t have to.”

“But you’re gonna go in whether I do or not, aren’t you?” Danny says, resigned.

“Yes,” Steve says honestly. Danny’s dogged investigative work had led them to a new lead on a cold case—the murder of two tourists a couple years ago. The guy made a run for it when they confronted him a couple hours ago, and they’ve been tracking him through the woods ever since. They’re close, Steve can tell.

Danny breathes in deep and then takes one tiny step forward. “I can’t let you go in alone, who knows what the fuck will happen to you in there. I’m your partner, I can do this. Okay. Let’s go.”

Steve wants to say _are you sure_ , but he knows that will only piss Danny off. So instead he shifts his grip on his gun and picks up Danny’s left hand with his right.

“What the fuck, are you serious with this?” Danny says, holding up their joined hands.

“You bet. I can shoot with my left hand just as well as I can with my right,” Steve says, purposefully skirting the real issue. 

“Of course you can,” he says with a sigh.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go,” Steve says, tugging on Danny’s hand.

“Are you using my own language to try and make me feel better?” Danny says, though he steps forward anyway. “Because that’s not gonna work.”

Steve ignores him and continues to tug him forward, blinking rapidly to help his eyes adjust from the bright Hawaiian sunshine to the dark, damp tunnel. The tunnel is definitely creepy, and he hopes for Danny’s sake that it isn’t too long. As they step further away from the sunshine, Danny’s grip on his hand tightens, and Steve can hear his breathing quicken.

Then there’s a loud crash, coming from ahead of them, and Danny drops Steve’s hand as his police training takes precedence over his fears. They creep around the corner, guns first, and there’s their guy, exiting the tunnel about 30 yards away. He closes some sort of gate and moves what looks like a huge fucking boulder in front of it.

“Motherfucker,” Steve grits out. He turns around and races back to the entrance where they came in, Danny hot on his heels, but the same scenario awaits them—this must have been a trap. Steve pushes against the gate, which isn’t locked, but the boulder on the other side is blocking it quite effectively. “It won’t budge.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Danny says, his voice rising in pitch with every word. “We’re _trapped_ in here?”

Steve grabs Danny’s hand again, this time entwining their fingers. “Danno, hey, listen to me,” he says firmly, and Danny’s panicked gaze finally swings over to him. “We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” he says.

Steve casually slides his thumb over Danny’s wrist, holding it there to monitor his pulse, which is racing. “I promise, just trust me.”

“I can tell what you’re doing, you’re not being sneaky,” Danny says, and even though he sounds shaky, Steve’s glad to hear him complaining.

Without dropping Danny’s hand, Steve awkwardly holsters his gun and uses his left hand to dig his phone out of his pocket. “I still have a signal, Chin and Kono are nearby, they’ll be here soon. We’re gonna be fine. Chin,” he says into the phone, thankful that he picked up on the first ring. “Danny and I tracked Waters into a tunnel, and he managed to lock us in here. Can you track my phone to get the coordinates and come get us? Yeah, we have water, we’ll be fine for a little while. Thanks.”

Danny seems a little paralyzed when Steve hangs up the phone, so he holsters Danny’s gun for him and starts undoing his tac vest. He lets go of his hand briefly to tug the vest off but quickly grabs it again. “Let’s see if we can get you breathing better.” Thankfully he isn’t wearing a tie today, but Steve still undoes the first few buttons of his shirt. Danny takes a greedy deep breath, his gaze locked on Steve.

“Do you trust me?” Steve asks, picking up Danny’s other hand in his.

“Of course I do,” Danny says, and the speed of his response in spite of his panic sends a curl of warmth through Steve’s chest.

“Then you need to believe me that we’re going to be fine. Chin and Kono will be here soon. Do you want to sit down?” he asks, but Danny shakes his head frantically.

Steve takes his own deep breath and tries to think of all the techniques he uses whenever he’s had panic attacks. “Try to match your breath to mine, okay?” he says softly.

Danny watches him like a hawk and they breathe together for a couple minutes, but he’s clearly still panicked, his breath coming in rapid and shallow gasps.

Steve needs to try something else.

He braces his back against the wall—trying not to think about how disconcertingly damp it feels—and uses his grip on Danny’s hands to tug him forward against his chest. Danny starts to sputter, but Steve just leans down and silences him with his mouth. Danny gasps, and Steve swallows the sound, trying to gauge what’s happening—Danny’s not resisting, but he’s not exactly participating either. Steve squeezes one of his hands, and that seems to break some sort of spell because Danny’s suddenly kissing him back with vigor. Steve straightens up in joy, tugging Danny closer to him and tilting his head to improve their angle.

After a few more seconds, Danny breaks away and braces his forehead against Steve’s collarbone. “Did you do that just to distract me?” he says lowly, and with his head tilted down like that Steve can’t see his face. His pulse is still thudding quickly under Steve’s thumb, but he’s really hoping it’s for a different reason now.

“No,” he says honestly. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“And you thought _this_ would be a good time? This is the scenario you choose, really?” Danny says. He finally lifts his head, and Steve relaxes instantly—even though he’s clearly gearing up for a rant, his eyes are bright and locked right on Steve. “It fucking smells in here, and oh by the way, I was in the middle of a panic attack. Smooth Dog, my ass.”

“But you’re not panicking anymore, are you?”

“Panicking about whether your insanity is transferred by saliva, maybe,” Danny mutters, and Steve grins.

“We might have to try a little harder for that,” Steve says, and he swiftly kisses Danny, mid-groan. Goddamn, why didn’t he do this sooner—this is the perfect way to shut Danny up.

Danny takes more control of this one, shoving Steve harder against the wall and holding him there with his weight as he tongue-fucks him thoroughly. Steve widens his stance, to make their heights a little more level, and revels in the feel of Danny’s stubble scraping against his. He finally lets go of one of Danny’s hands so he can tug at his shirt, untucking it in the back and spreading his fingers wide against the warm skin of his back. Danny’s free hand grips his bicep, hard, and Steve relishes the dull spot of pain as he nips at Danny’s lip.

“Hey, you guys okay?”

At the sound of Chin’s voice, Danny wrenches his lips from Steve’s and darts closer to the blocked entrance. “Oh, Chin Ho Kelly, I have never ever been happier to see you,” he says. “Well, hear you, anyway. If you can get us out of here, I will buy you coffee for like a _year_ , okay?”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Chin replies, and Steve can hear Kono laugh.

“You guys gonna be able to get us out?” Steve calls out.

“Sure thing, boss,” she says. “He wedged you in there pretty good, though.”

The next several minutes are filled with loud scraping noises, and even Steve breathes a sigh of relief when the gate finally swings open. Danny drops his hand as he steps into the sunshine, and Steve instantly feels bereft. He moves closer to Danny to make himself feel better.

“What happened to you guys in there?” Kono says, clearly taking in their rumpled, untucked shirts and dirt-streaked clothes. 

“Drastic times call for drastic measures,” Danny says with a shrug as he tries valiantly to smooth his hair, and Steve allows himself a tiny smirk.


	3. Day 3 - Celebrating an Anniversary

“Are we gonna hang out with Uncle Steve this weekend, Danno?” 

Danny winces—he was hoping that this wouldn’t come up, but knowing how much his daughter loves her Uncle Steve, it was clearly just wishful thinking. “Probably not.”

“Why not?” Grace asks, her lower lip poking out.

Danny ponders for a minute, and then decides to tell her the truth. He could make up some excuse, but he always tries to treat Grace like an adult, at least as much as he can. “Today is the one-year anniversary of the day Steve’s dad died,” he explains gently. Danny’s had the day marked in his calendar for months. When he found out that Grace would be with him that day, he wasn’t sure whether he was sad that he couldn’t be there to support Steve or relieved—so he wouldn’t have to witness Steve’s sure-to-be-legendary foul mood.

Grace gasps, her eyes wide. “How did he die?”

Danny pauses again. God, if this gives her nightmares, he’s never going to forgive himself. “He was killed by some bad guys,” he says finally.

“You didn’t catch them first?” she asks, looking absolutely crestfallen. “You always catch the bad guys.” 

“No, we didn’t. And I didn’t even know Steve then, monkey,” Danny says with a sad smile. Well, if nothing else, his daughter’s illusion of him as a swashbuckling hero has come crumbling down. “Anyway, I don’t know if he’ll want company today.”

“But I thought you said we should be with family when we’re sad.”

Danny opens his mouth, then closes it again. He can’t really argue with Grace on that one, especially since it warms his cold heart knowing that she thinks of Steve as family. “You’re right, Grace.”

Grace tilts her head, thinking for a second, and then her eyes light up. “We should do something nice for him.”

“What would you want if you were sad?” Danny asks, smiling. His little girl is the best.

Grace twists her mouth and bites her lip. “I would want your pancakes. Maybe chocolate chip cookies, too. And I’d want to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie.”

“Ah,” Danny says sagely. “The magic combination.”

“Let’s go now!” Grace squeals.

Danny looks at his watch—6:14 on a Saturday morning, he can’t _wait_ until Grace starts sleeping in—and then nods. “Okay, let’s do it. You go get dressed, I’ll get the ingredients ready to go.”

* * *

“Will you stay on the porch for a second, sweetie?” Danny asks. He wants to go in first to check on Steve’s mood, and he’s already told Grace that they might just have to turn around and go home. Over his dead body will his daughter hang out with Steve if he’s drinking at 7am or cleaning his guns or doing something equally depressing.

Grace nods, bouncing on her toes, so Danny lets himself in carefully. Though the house is quiet, he pokes around anyway. A quick check turns up nothing, but then Danny spots a towel on the lanai. Sure enough, when he steps outside he can just make out a dark head swimming away from shore.

Danny exhales and goes to get Grace. “Looks like he’s out swimming, so we’ve got a little time.”

Grace cheers and heads straight for the kitchen. “I’ll work on the cookies, you start on the pancakes, okay?”

Danny stifles a smile. “Yes, Chef Grace,” he says, with a mock-bow.

They work quickly, and soon the cookie dough is almost ready and there’s a growing stack of pancakes next to the stove.

“Do you think he’s going to be happy we’re here?” Grace asks, as she meticulously spoons the cookie dough onto the baking sheets that Danny had unearthed from the kitchen cupboards.

“I don’t know, monkey,” Danny says honestly. “I hope so. Probably. How could anyone not be happy to see you?”

He’s just flipped the last pancake when the lanai door slams. Grace perks up and heads for the kitchen door, but Danny reaches for her and pushes her behind him as he turns the corner to face Steve.

“Hi, there,” he says, but Steve doesn’t respond. He looks like he did when Danny first met him: hard, angry, unyielding. He spares a passing thought for the fact that this Steve is barely recognizable to him anymore—it’s a small comfort, at least, that Steve has mellowed out so much after the past year. He also appears to be exhausted, and Danny would bet dollars to donuts that he didn’t sleep well last night. But underneath it all he still looks amazing, Danny isn’t afraid to admit, with his hair mussed from the towel and with little rivulets of water trailing down his bare chest.

“Hi, Steve!” Grace says, darting out from behind Danny, and he visibly startles.

Danny’s heart fills with fear for a second—though he can’t imagine that Steve could snap and yell at his daughter—but then he relaxes when, after a second, Steve exhales and crouches down in front of her with a small, shaky smile. “Hi, Grace.”

“Danno told me what today is, and I’m really sorry. We came to make you feel better,” she says carefully. She takes a small step forward but then pauses, clearly unsure of her welcome. “Can I give you a hug?”

“You never have to ask,” he says, opening his arms, and Grace runs right into them. Steve seems to soften right before his eyes, which doesn’t surprise Danny—he knows how magical Grace’s hugs are. When Steve catches Danny’s eye over her head, Danny holds his gaze and tries to convey with his eyes how sorry he is and how it really fucking sucks that Steve has to go through this.

Steve stands up, keeping his hold on Grace, and follows Danny into the kitchen. “Do I smell pancakes?” he asks, bumping his bare shoulder into Danny’s and letting it rest against him. 

Danny welcomes the weight, eager to shoulder whatever small part of Steve that he can. “ _And_ cookies. Hope you swam a lot.”

Though Steve is still a little quiet, he helps Grace set the table and doesn’t even comment on the overabundance of carbohydrates in their breakfast.

“Can you tell me something nice about your daddy?” Grace asks, after they’ve started eating, and Danny winces. He starts to say something to divert her, but Steve squeezes his knee under the table before he can get it out.

“Pancakes were his favorite breakfast, so he’d be very happy with this. He would have liked you.”

“Was he as good of a daddy as Danno is?”

Oh, Jesus Christ—Danny clearly needs to have a little talk with his daughter about appropriate conversation topics. Thankfully, Steve looks completely unfazed by the question.

“Nah, no one’s better than Danno, right?” he says, knocking Danny’s elbow with his own.

“Right!” Grace says, grinning.

“All right, all right,” he says, pretending to grumble—but the smile doesn’t make it very convincing, he guesses. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you guys still have to do the dishes.”

They do the dishes without complaint while Danny busies himself with taking the cookies out of the oven and promptly burning the roof of his mouth on one—he’s never been able to wait until they’re cool enough to eat.

“Dessert after breakfast, really, Danno?” Steve asks, and Danny grins. He knows Steve must be feeling better if he’s bitching at him— _and_ because Steve snatches a cookie anyway. “So what’s next?”

Danny sweeps an arm toward Grace. “This one is in charge of the activities for the day,” he says.

Grace puffs up and grins. “Movies always make me feel better when I’m feeling sad.”

“That sounds pretty good to me,” Steve says. “Did you have a movie in mind?”

“We brought Lilo and Stitch! It’s one of my favorites because it takes place in Hawaii. And it’s all about ohana, and we’re ohana. Right?”

“That’s exactly right,” Steve says, and that’s the best smile Danny’s seen from him all morning. Hell, probably all year. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Knowing his daughter’s penchant for morning naps, Danny is not at all surprised when he looks down about a half hour into the movie and sees Grace sacked out, slumped against Steve.

“I can’t believe you guys came over,” he says, his voice quiet.

“It was Grace’s idea,” Danny says quickly, and Steve nods.

“Ah,” he says.

Is Danny imagining it, or does Steve look… _disappointed_? “I was really worried about you,” he admits. “I was glad when Grace suggested it because I wasn’t sure how to help, or if you’d want any company. I hope we aren’t imposing.”

“No, not at all,” he says quickly. “I’m glad you guys are here. Really.”

“How are you doing? I know it’s a dumb question, but—”

“I’m exhausted, I slept like shit,” Steve says, with a shrug. “But overall, I’m okay. Better than I thought, thanks to you guys.”

“You can lie down and take a nap, too, if you want,” Danny says, and Steve laughs.

“I just might take you up on that.”

“Then come on, sleepyhead,” Danny says, slumping further into the corner of the couch and patting the pillow in the crook of his arm.

Steve just looks at him for a long moment, and Danny is careful to keep his expression open and calm, as if inviting Steve to sleep in his lap is something that they do every day. Yeah, maybe it’s something he _wants_ to do every day, but as of yet he’s managed to resist the temptation. Without taking his eyes off Danny, Steve moves carefully, so as to not disturb Grace, and stretches out with his head resting on Danny’s chest and his shoulder braced against Danny’s thigh.

Danny lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and he gently grasps Steve’s shoulder. “Sleep, okay? I got you.”

“Thank you, Danno, really.”

“Anytime, babe,” he says. He slides his hand along Steve’s arm from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow, and Steve reaches his other hand across to squeeze his fingers.

“Hey. Sometime, later, do you think we can, uh—talk? Or something. I mean—”

Steve looks strangely serious and adorably uncertain, so Danny stifles a smile and puts him out of his misery. “Yeah, babe. We can do whatever you want.”

Steve exhales and then has the gall to wink at Danny, making him chuckle. Danny lets himself revel for a minute in the warmth of Steve’s weight against him, and he likes that he can feel when his breathing slows and he slips into sleep. Though Danny has seen this movie upward of a couple million times, he’s happy as a clam to watch it yet again with his two favorite people sleeping on him.


	4. Day 4 - Dealing with an Injury

“McGarrett.”

Steve answers the phone absent-mindedly, without even glancing at the display. It’s a quiet morning at the office—Kono and Danny are off in court, while Chin is holed up in his office reviewing security footage—and he’s in the middle of parsing through some complex financial documents related to their current case.

“Commander McGarrett? This is Julie Danvers, the nurse at Grace’s school.”

Steve’s spine straightens automatically as he snaps to attention, his mind immediately sifting through various increasingly terrible possibilities. “Grace? What’s wrong? Is she okay?” he says, trying to keep the hardness out of his voice.

“She took a tumble on the playground and hurt her wrist. There’s also a chance that she has a concussion, so I would definitely recommend a trip to the emergency room. Grace told us that her mom and stepfather are out of town, and her father isn’t answering his phone. You’re the first name on the emergency contact list.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there in…seven minutes,” he says, swiftly calculating how long it will take to get to Grace’s school at top speed.

He pauses to update Chin before racing out of the office, really wishing that he had the Camaro instead of his truck. But the sirens and lights do a good job of splitting the traffic, and he pulls into the school parking lot six minutes later. He calls Danny as he jogs up the steps, gritting his teeth when he doesn’t pick up. “Danno, Grace is hurt, but she’s okay. I’m at the school now, meet us at Queen’s whenever you get this.”

Steve bursts through the front door, belatedly realizing that a crazed-looking armed guy probably isn’t going to make anyone feel comfortable. So he takes a deep breath and beelines for the first person he sees in the entryway. “Can you tell me where the nurse’s office is, please?”

“Down the hall on the left,” she says, pointing, and Steve manages to give her a tight smile. He tries to stop himself from running and still reaches the office in several long strides.

“Grace?” he says as he steps through the door, looking around wildly. He spots her sitting on a chair, her face blotchy and tear-streaked, and he immediately kneels down next to her.

“Uncle Steve,” she says through her tears, reaching one arm up toward him. His heart crumples in on itself as he hugs her carefully, mindful of the other arm that she’s cradling toward her chest. “It hurts.”

“I know, sweetie,” he says softly, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry. But we’re going to go see the doctor, and they’ll make it stop hurting, okay?”

“Hi, Commander,” someone says, and for the first time he notices the young blonde woman in the room with them.

“Steve,” he says absently as he continues to look Grace over. Her dress is stained, and there’s a large gash on the side of her face, though thankfully it’s no longer bleeding. Once he’s satisfied that she’s not in imminent danger, he stands up, keeping one hand on Grace’s shoulder, and shakes hands with the nurse. “Thank you for calling me.”

“Of course. My guess is that her wrist is broken, or at the very least badly sprained,” she says quietly. “She hit her head, but the cut didn’t bleed for very long. She’s complaining of a headache, so I gave her a Tylenol a few minutes ago. And I called her pediatrician, Dr. Yu, who said she would make sure that Grace got seen right away at Queen’s.”

“Thank you so much,” Steve says, bending down again to pick up Grace and settle her on his hip.

“Would you mind giving me a call later?” the nurse says, handing him a card. “I’d like to know how she’s doing.”

Steve nods, and Grace twists slightly in his arms. “Thank you, Ms. Danvers.”

“You’re welcome, Grace,” she says, laying a hand on her back. “I hope you feel better really soon.”

Steve carries Grace to his truck and is just about to open the passenger side door when she makes a horrendous retching noise. Thankfully, he’s able to maneuver her and squat down so that most of it gets on the concrete next to the truck.

Looking utterly miserable, Grace leans back against Steve as he stands up again. “I’m sorry I threw up on you. My head hurts.”

“You could throw up on me as much as you want, Grace Face, and I wouldn’t care,” he says, and he’s immensely proud of the tiny giggle he gets in response. Once Grace is seated and buckled in, he takes off his outer shirt and uses the clean sleeve to wipe her face, then wads it up and tosses it in the back seat. At least his undershirt is clean.

“I know it’s going to be loud, sweetie, and I’m sorry, but I’m going to put the sirens on because they’ll help us get to the hospital faster, okay?”

Grace nods, and Steve presses on the gas—he knows that vomiting is a sign of a concussion, and he wants to get there ASAP. It’s only about a four-mile drive, but it feels like triple that with a sick little girl sitting in his front seat.

Finally, _finally_ they pull into the ER parking lot, and Steve snags a parking spot near the door. Grace reaches for him so he picks her up again, turning her face into his neck so she won’t see anything in the event that somebody’s in the ER with a grievous injury.

“I’m Commander Steve McGarrett, and this Grace Williams,” he says to the nurse at the front desk. “Dr. Yu called and said we were coming.” 

“Yes, I have her file right here, and Dr. Versa is ready to see her. But I’m sorry, sir, I can’t let you go back with her,” the woman says, and Steve grinds his teeth together so loudly that Grace can probably hear.

“I’m her father’s partner,” he says firmly, hoping that this woman will make the same assumption that many people do. He doesn’t want to have to pull the governor card; people tend not to like him so much after that. “And I need to go in with her.”

“Please?” Grace sobs. Steve _hates_ that this is causing her any additional stress, and he has to consciously relax so that he doesn’t squeeze her too hard. Thankfully the woman’s eyes soften, and she finally nods.

“Exam room six, right through those doors there.”

Steve just nods and heads for the doors, backing through them so the swinging door doesn’t hit Grace. He easily finds room six and takes a seat in the chair, with Grace in his lap.

“Do you know where Danno is? Is he okay?”

“He’s definitely okay,” Steve says, hugging her closer. “He’s in court today and he couldn’t get to his phone. But he knows we’re here, and he’s going to be here as soon as he can, I promise.”

Grace nods. “Is this going to hurt, Uncle Steve?” she asks quietly, and he winces.

“I don’t know, Grace, it might,” he says honestly. “But I promise that whatever the doctor does, it’s to make you feel better, okay?”

She nods and curls the fingers of her good hand harder into his shirt. Steve has to force himself to keep from fidgeting. He hates waiting more than anything because it makes him feel helpless, especially when it involves pain anywhere near this little girl—one of his favorite people in the whole world, _Danny’s_ girl. Danny would take on pain ten times worse than this so Grace wouldn’t have to feel a thing, and Steve would happily do the same. For either of them.

“Hi, there,” the doctor says as she enters the room, breaking Steve’s train of thought. “How are you and your dad holding up?”

Steve feels conflicting emotions—he doesn’t want to take anything away from Danny, ever, but with all the affection he has for her, he’s not exactly ashamed to be mistaken for Grace’s dad.

“This isn’t my daddy, this is my Steve,” Grace says, leaning her forehead against Steve’s neck. “He’s my daddy’s partner.”

“Sorry about that. Hi, Grace, hi, Steve, I’m Dr. Versa,” she says as she shakes Steve’s hand and squeezes Grace’s shoulder. He immediately likes her, she looks gentle and has warm eyes.

“Do you want to sit on the table?” Dr. Versa asks, but Grace just shakes her head and scoots farther back into Steve’s lap. “That’s fine, you can stay right there. Would you like to tell me what happened?”

“I fell off the monkey bars,” Grace says, “and landed on my wrist. And I think I hit my head on something because it hurts.”

“The nurse at school gave her Tylenol for her headache,” Steve chimes in. “And she threw up once on the way here.”

“Did this cut happen when you hit your head?” she asks, as she runs her fingers gently over the gash on Grace’s face, and Grace nods.

“It didn’t bleed for very long,” Steve says.

“Okay,” she says with a nod. “I’m going to take a quick look at your wrist, then we’ll examine your head.”

Dr. Versa pokes and prods at Grace’s wrist, apologizing softly whenever Grace grimaces. “We’re going to do an x-ray to be sure, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got a hairline fracture,” the doctor says, and Steve likes how she talks to Grace instead of to him.

“What does that mean?” Grace asks.

“Basically, you have a very small break in one of your wrist bones. We’ll put on a cast, but you should only have to wear it for a few weeks because you’re young, and your bones heal really fast.”

“Can I pick out what color I want the cast to be?” Grace asks, and both adults laugh.

“You sure can. What color do you think you want?”

“Hmm. Purple? Or maybe pink. Wait…Uncle Steve, what’s your favorite color?”

Steve thinks about it—he doesn’t know if anyone has ever asked him that before. “Green.”

“Then I want green,” Grace says firmly, and Steve shares a smile with the doctor.

“Then green is what you shall have,” she says. She does a quick examination of Grace, asks her some questions, and then sits back and scrawls on her clipboard. “It looks like a minor concussion, but just to be safe I’m going to send you for a CT scan after the x-ray.”

“Can Steve come with me?”

“Of course he can,” she says warmly. “A nurse will come get you in a minute, and then I’ll be back in a little while to put your cast on, okay?”

Grace nods, and the doctor pats Steve on the shoulder before exiting the room. The x-ray is fairly uneventful, but Grace balks when the young CT technician explains the procedure to her. Steve doesn’t blame her—the dark machine induces claustrophobia in everyone.

“I know it’s scary, Gracie, but we need to do it so the doctors can make sure that there’s nothing wrong with that beautiful head of yours. And there’s an intercom in there, so we can talk to you. I’ll be standing next to the technician the whole time,” he says, shooting an evil eye toward the kid and practically daring him to challenge his words.

“Have you done this before?” she asks, and he nods, turning his attention back to her.

“Yes, I have. Several times, in fact. It’s a little dark in there and sometimes there are some loud noises, but it doesn’t hurt, I promise.”

“Okay,” Grace says, gulping a little. “I can do it.”

“That’s my girl.”

Grace handles the CT scan like a pro, and then she and Steve are left to await the results, this time in a regular hospital room. Dr. Versa finally comes into the room with a smile on her face, and Steve feels a small part of himself relax. “Good news, your CT scan looks great, Grace. And the x-ray confirmed the hairline fracture, so I’m going to put your cast on now.”

Grace is loath to leave Steve’s lap, so Dr. Versa rolls her stool right between Steve’s legs and gets to work. “Dark green or light green?” she asks, and Grace looks up at Steve.

“Dark,” he stage-whispers, so Grace points to that one.

The doctor works quickly, and Grace doesn’t even shed a tear while she gets her cast. She seems calmer for the moment, so Steve transfers her from his lap to the bed and stands up to talk to Dr. Versa.

“So everything really looks okay?” Steve asks quietly, and the doctor smiles.

“Yes, she’s going to be fine. I would have preferred to skip the CT scan, but since she vomited and one of her pupils was a little sluggish, I wanted to be safe. Thankfully, it all looks good.”

“And how long does she need to stay?”

“I’d like to keep her under observation for a few hours, just to make sure that no other symptoms appear for her concussion, but if all looks good after that you can take her home.”

“Do I need to keep her awake now?” Steve asks, and the doctor shakes her head.

“No, it’s fine if she falls asleep. And with the mild painkiller I gave her, she probably will. I’ll be back to check on her in about half an hour.”

“Okay. Thanks, doc,” Steve says with a deep sigh, and she leaves the room after giving Grace a quick wave.

“Can you sign my cast, please?” Grace says, holding out her arm.

“Of course I will,” Steve says, reaching for a marker that he spots lying on the side table. “Is there anything in particular you want me to write?”

“You know how Danno always says to me _Danno loves you_?” Grace says, looking a little bashful. “Could you write _Steve loves you_?”

“You got it,” he says, not even trying to hide his smile. He writes carefully, in the proper place as instructed, and then hitches a hip up on the bed when Grace pats the space next to her. He watches carefully as she drifts off, but before long he hears a slight commotion in the hallway and the very familiar tone of an angry Danny Williams. He carefully removes himself from Grace’s bed, closing the door softly behind him, and spots Danny farther down the hall, where he appears to be arguing with a nurse.

“Danny,” he calls out, waving to get his attention. Danny’s head whips around, and he seems to relax as they lock eyes.

“Steve,” he says, hurrying over. “Grace, is she okay?”

He immediately goes for the door, but Steve wraps a hand around his arm and holds him back. “She’s fine. She’s asleep right now, so let’s stay out here for a second.”

“What happened?”

“She fell off the monkey bars and hit her head. She’s got a hairline fracture on her wrist and a minor concussion, but she’s going to be fine.”

Danny exhales noisily and presses his forehead to Steve’s shoulder. Steve moves his hand from Danny’s arm around to his back, in a half-embrace. “Oh, god. I can’t believe I wasn’t here,” he says, the words muffled.

“Shh, it’s all okay.”

Danny lifts his head, and Steve’s really not strong enough for the mix of sadness and fear in his eyes. “You—” he starts, but they’re interrupted by Dr. Versa coming up to them.

“You must be dad,” she says warmly, holding her hand out for Danny to shake. “I’m Dr. Versa. Your daughter is going to be fine, your husband did a great job. I’ll be back to check on her shortly.”

“Uh, yeah,” Danny says dumbly as he looks at Steve. “Thanks.”

“C’mon,” Steve says, using the arm that’s still around Danny’s back to guide him. “Let’s go inside. If we keep quiet, Grace won’t wake up.”

Unusually pliant, Danny lets Steve steer him into the room, and he clutches Steve’s arm a little harder when he sees Grace asleep on the bed, her casted arm cradled toward her chest.

“Shit. She’s really okay?”

“Yes, I promise. She got her arm x-rayed, she got a CT scan, and she did great.”

Danny carefully releases a long exhale and steps closer to the bed. “Steve loves you?”

“That’s what she asked for,” he says, with a shrug that he knows is miles from casual.

“And did you really tell these nice people that you were my husband?” Danny asks. His gaze is calculating, and Steve has no idea what he’s thinking, which is rare. He decides to go for honesty.

“No, I just said I was your partner and didn’t specify. It was the only way they’d let me back here.”

The corners of Danny’s mouth pull down, and he nods. Then all of a sudden he’s in Steve’s space, kissing him. A little stunned, Steve lets Danny nip at his lips and urge them into probably the sweetest kiss he’s ever had. This is most certainly unexpected, but not unwelcome—Steve’s never dared to let himself think that Danny might possibly return his feelings. He shakes off the surprise and kisses Danny back, hard, starting to push him toward the wall before he remembers that they’re in a hospital room. _Grace’s_ hospital room.

“What was that for?” Steve says softly, after he pulls away.

“You took care of my daughter as if she were your own,” Danny says, his bright blue eyes boring straight into Steve’s. “That’s—yeah.”

Steve blinks, then nods. He understands, and for once Danny doesn’t need to say anything more. He hooks an arm around Danny’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his hair, holding him close as they watch Grace sleep.


	5. Day 5 - Helping with Insomnia

With a groan, Danny rolls over and pulls the pillow over his head. What the fuck is that noise, and why is it interrupting his sleep? Maybe if he ignores it, it’ll go away. But as the haze of sleep slowly clears from his brain, he realizes that the shrill noise is his phone, and he fumbles for the nightstand so he can grab it before it stops ringing.

“Hello?” He winces at the rough note to his voice, clears his throat, and tries again. “Hello?”

“Oh—hey, Danno. You’re...uh, you were asleep.”

“Steve?” He pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the display—yup, that’s Steve’s photo, some silly beach one that Grace had taken, staring right at him. “Steve? What the hell? Is something wrong? Do we have a case?”

“No, nothing,” he says quickly. “Sorry—just thought you’d be awake. Go back to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

All of a sudden Steve’s voice is gone, and Danny is left sitting in the dark, staring at his phone. Why is Steve calling him at 2:14 in the morning? That’s particularly strange, even for him, but he didn’t use their secret “in distress” code word (pina colada, naturally), so he must be okay. Danny puts the phone down with a shrug and lies back down, trying to get comfortable again. He tosses and turns for several minutes, punching his pillow into submission and rearranging the blankets, but it’s hopeless—all he can think about is what might be wrong with Steve. It’s been a few weeks since that final showdown with Wo Fat and he’s pretty much back to normal, but what if he hurt himself again somehow? Or what if he’s in trouble?

“Shit,” Danny says, reaching his arm out blindly toward the nightstand again. He fumbles on his phone for that probably-illegal app that Chin had installed for each of them, allowing them to track each other’s phones. It strikes Danny as vaguely creepy and Big Brother-ish, but if it helps any of them when they’re in danger, then he’s all for it. And it sure comes in handy for stalking your partner in the middle of the night, which is a plus. Danny tries to ignore the other dots on the screen—he has no need to know where Chin and Kono are right now—and sees Steve’s little blue dot blinking away happily at his house. Well, at least that probably rules out some kind of drunken bar brawl.

With a sigh, Danny heaves himself out of bed and slips on an undershirt and a pair of shorts. The streets are eerily quiet, so he makes it to Steve’s house in record time. He lets himself in with his key, quickly punches in the alarm code, and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees a boxers-clad Steve standing at the top of the stairs, gun raised.

“Jesus fuck, Steve!” Danny exclaims, glaring at him and trying to calm his racing heart. 

“What are you doing here, Danno?”

“Why am _I_ here? Why did you call me at two in the morning?”

“But I didn’t say pina colada,” Steve says, looking adorably confused. Wait—adorably? Where the hell did that come from? He must really be tired.

“I know, you schmuck,” Danny says, scowling. “But knowing you, you would only use it if you were in imminent threat of death, not like normal amounts of peril. So I came over, you know, to check. On you.”

“No danger.”

“Yeah, I see that now. Can you put your gun away, please? I’d rather not be the victim of a sleep-induced friendly fire incident.”

“Oh, sorry,” Steve says as he disappears from view. He comes back a minute later, sans gun and with a tank on, and brushes past Danny, who silently mourns the loss of his bare skin. He then shakes his head quickly—this is _not_ the time to indulge in one of those rare fantasies about his boss. Nope, nope, nope. He’s tired, and that’s dangerous.

“Why did you call me?”

“Do you want a beer?” Steve calls out from the kitchen, ignoring the question.

Danny rolls his eyes and shouts back, “Sure.”

He waits until they’re seated on the lanai, listening to the gentle roar of the waves, before he asks again. “Why did you call me?” he says, putting emphasis on every word.

Steve opens his mouth as if to speak, but then he closes it again and looks away, clenching his jaw. As much as it pains him to do so, Danny stays silent, busying himself by picking at the label of his beer bottle.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, and Danny’s pretty sure that’s not what he wanted to say a few seconds before. “And I know that sometimes you can’t sleep, so I—yeah. Called.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Danny asks, pointedly looking out at the ocean, barely visible in the dark, instead of at Steve.

“Nightmares,” Steve says. He forces out the word as if it pains him to do so. “With all of the—the shit that happened, everything is more scrambled than usual.”

Danny nods, knowing that he’s referring to the drug-induced hallucinations that no one has really gotten him to talk about so far.

“You saved him,” Steve says quietly, and Danny has to strain to hear.

“What?”

“In my, uh, dream, hallucination, whatever. You saved my dad before Hesse could shoot him.”

Well, fuck. With a loud exhale, Danny sits back in his chair and takes a long swig of his beer. “I wish I could’ve done that in real life, I really do, babe.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, blowing out a breath. “I know.”

“Tell me something else from those. Something less, uh, less depressing.”

“You drove me around everywhere,” Steve says, a small smile playing at his lips.

Danny laughs, and it seems too loud for that hour of the night. “Oh, yeah? I would kill for that privilege, seriously. Even just once in a while.”

“It just—it sucks, you know?” Steve asks, looking wrecked. If it were up to Danny, he would never, ever look that way.

“Oh, I know, buddy,” Danny says with a sigh. Thankfully his nightmares come a little less frequently these days, but there are still many nights when he dreams of the smell of Colombia, the sight of oil drums, the sound of a gunshot.

“I haven’t had this problem in a while,” Steve says, rolling his beer bottle between his palms. “It’s just easier not to sleep.”

“It’s been only a couple weeks, they’ll get better, I promise. And now he’s gone for good.”

“I don’t know if I ever, uh, thanked you. For that day.”

“Are you kidding, babe?” Danny says, holding a warm hand on Steve’s knee. “I would go to the ends of the earth to rescue you.”

He’s thinking of all the times that he’s done exactly that—North Korea, Afghanistan—and it’s clear Steve is, too. He nods, a little jerkily, and leans forward, his gaze darting from Danny’s lips to his eyes and back again. It stupidly takes Danny a few extra seconds to figure out what’s going on, but sue him, it’s the middle of the night.

He’s not sure which one of them surges forward that extra centimeter, but it doesn’t really matter because they’re kissing, and it’s even better than it is in Danny’s not-infrequent thoughts, hot and wet and intense. Steve’s hand surges up to tangle in Danny’s hair, and he manages to maneuver himself, without breaking their kiss, to his knees in front of Danny’s chair. He wraps both arms around Steve’s broad shoulders and scoots forward, letting his thighs bracket Steve’s ribs as he slows the kiss a bit, morphing it from hard and frantic to lush and deep.

Steve pulls back, his lips wet and shiny, but Danny doesn’t let him go far. “Do you want to go inside?”

Danny just nods, not really trusting his voice for once, and stands up, tugging Steve with him. They don’t say anything as they trek through the house, as Steve drops their beer bottles in the kitchen, as Danny resets the alarm. Finally they’re about halfway up the stairs when Danny can’t take it anymore, and he stops in his tracks to tug impatiently at Steve’s tank. With a laugh, Steve yanks it off and flings it somewhere before pressing Danny against the wall and leaning in to kiss him again. Danny inhales sharply and finally, _finally_ lets his hands memorize Steve’s skin, trailing from his low back up to his shoulder blades, around to his chest, down to his hips.

Steve’s hands are underneath his shirt somehow, on his back and pulling him forward at the same time as his hips press him back. Danny pushes him off, carefully—it’s a little precarious, balancing here on the steps, and he would really like to get off before this interaction causes them actual physical harm—and continues up the stairs, leading Steve by the hand.

Steve shoves him onto the bed, and he laughs, or at least as much as he can with the heavy weight of him against his back. “ _Fuck_ , Danny,” he says into the nape of his neck, and his voice sounds pretty broken for all that they haven’t been talking.

Danny manages to flip onto his back, dumping Steve off to the side and reaching for him again, because it’s been about 30 seconds too long since they last kissed. Danny arches this way and that to wiggle out of his shirt, while Steve seems content to sit back and watch. Steve makes quick work of his shorts, though, and immediately latches one hand onto Danny’s ass, pulling him closer. While the brush of his dick against the fabric of Steve’s boxers is enticing, Danny lifts up on his knees to pull them down.

Fuck. The whole picture—Steve laying there against the bedspread, all naked and gorgeous—is even better than Danny had pictured, though he figured he had a pretty good idea from how often Steve disrobed. Steve lifts a hand, and Danny goes willingly, stretching out on his side so the two of them are pressed together from chest to knees.

“I’m not, uh,” Steve starts, sounding hoarse and not bothering to clear his throat, “I’m not gonna—”

“Yeah, me too, babe,” Danny says, cutting him off with a kiss. There’s no way they’re going to have the patience for anything more than this. “This is good.”

 _This is_ great _, actually_ , he immediately revises in his head when Steve grabs his cock in his hand. In his _huge_ hand, which is big enough to encircle them both, and oh my god, there’s no way Danny could even handle more than this without the top of his head blowing off. He breaks their kiss in a vain attempt to retain some equilibrium, but that’s a lost cause as soon as he leans his forehead against Steve’s shoulder and looks down. Steve’s hand around both of their dicks is the best kind of porn, and Danny’s never going to need any other images in his head ever after this. Somewhere, somehow, Steve got lube, letting them slide together so sweet and easy. The juxtaposition between Steve’s calloused hand and the smooth slip of his cock is pure torture, and Danny needs to get a handle on himself before this becomes embarrassing.

Steve honest-to-god whines, clearly unhappy with the amount of attention that he’s getting, so Danny lifts his head and kisses him, fiercely, as he shoves hard against Steve’s hand. All the pressure threatens to topple them over, and the strength Steve uses to push him back makes him shiver.

Steve comes first, much to Danny’s delight, and he’s a little louder than Danny thought he would be, groaning lowly in his ear and latching onto his neck. As much as Danny would like this to continue forever, the feel of Steve’s come sliding down his dick is just too much, and he quickly follows him over the edge. They both lie there, chests heaving as they kiss through loud exhales, and all of a sudden Danny feels fucking exhausted, sated in the best possible way.

Steve shoves them both onto their sides and grabs Danny’s hand that’s resting on top of his stomach. “Thank you for coming over,” he says, so quiet that Danny’s not even sure that he was meant to hear it. But he squeezes Steve’s hand anyway, and within a couple minutes they’re both asleep.


	6. Day 6 - Getting Wet

“Okay, who’s going to go first?”

“I’ll go,” Steve says, needlessly raising his hand. “You remember the signs, right, Kono?”

“Got it, boss. Get in there and show us how it’s done.”

Steve laughs as he slips into the water—he’s only waterskied a couple times, a long time ago, so he has no delusions about his ability. Sure enough, he gets upright okay but only manages to stay on his feet for about 30 seconds before he flips ass-over-face into the water. He tries a couple more times but doesn’t find much more success, so he clambers back onto the boat, where Danny is holding out a towel toward him.

“Good job there, babe,” he says, his eyes twinkling, and Steve rolls his eyes as he rubs the towel over his hair.

This whole thing had been Kono’s idea—she had an uncle or cousin or something who had a boat and liked to water ski, and she had never tried. So they picked a free Saturday, crossed their fingers that the criminal population would cooperate, and borrowed the boat. Team bonding, she said. At first Steve thought it was a great idea, but now he wants to fucking kill her because he vastly underestimated his ability to handle this much shirtless Danny. And it’s only been about 20 minutes.

He pines, okay? And he’s not even afraid to admit it. He pines for Danny, his very straight partner who has never shown any sign of being, well, anything but very straight. And Steve would know, he’s been looking. Sure, Danny’s kinda touchy-feely sometimes, but he’s like that with lots of people. Same with the _babe_ nickname, which Steve had definitely bristled about when he discovered it wasn’t exclusively his.

“Steven? Hello?”

“Yeah?” he says automatically, with a quick shake of his head. “Sorry, what?”

“My turn,” Danny says. “Try not to be too impressed.”

“Wow, you’re getting in the water voluntarily? We should mark the occasion.”

“Only to show you how it’s done. I’ll have you know—”

“Okay, stop arguing,” Kono says, holding her hands up. She uses a palm on Danny’s chest to shove him into the water and shouts after him, “show us what you got, haole!”

Danny comes up sputtering and he glares at her but doesn’t answer, swimming to the back of the boat instead. He gives the signal that he’s ready, so Kono taps Chin on the shoulder, and Steve braces himself as the boat lurches forward. Danny’s a little wobbly at first, but he gets to his feet quickly and stays there, carving neatly through the water. He’s slightly obscured by the spray of the waves, but Steve can still make out the bunching of the muscles in his arms and the sharp definition of his abdomen.

“I think you’re drooling there, boss.”

“Shut up,” he says automatically, wincing slightly at the sound of Kono’s laugh. She’d cornered him in his office several weeks ago and confronted him about his feelings for Danny—his _obvious_ feelings, as she would say. They don’t talk about it often, but she’s always been nice about it, save for occasionally laughing at him. And more importantly, he knows she would never breathe a word of it to Danny, so it doesn’t bother him too much. Truthfully, Steve wishes that he could give Danny shit for it, that their rookie had picked up on his feelings while the actual detective hadn’t. At least, he’s pretty sure that Danny hasn’t found out—he can’t imagine that he’d actually be able to keep quiet about it if he did in fact know.

Danny finally signals that he’s done, so Chin slows the boat and Steve keeps his distance as Danny clambers back onboard.

“Whoa, brah,” Kono says, laughing as she punches Danny lightly in the arm. “Where the hell’d you learn how to do that?”

Danny laughs as he rubs the towel over his hair, leaving it all tousled and more relaxed than usual. Steve has to literally sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out to touch, to find out if Danny’s hair is as soft as it looks.

“I have no idea, babe,” he says, and sure enough, Steve grits his teeth. “I skied a lot growing up, so I guess those skills transfer to the water.”

Chin seems content in his role driving the boat, so Steve, Kono, and Danny take turns in the water for the next couple hours. They try their hand at various tricks, but much to Steve’s chagrin, Danny is the only one who’s actually able to do anything besides hang on and go in a straight line.

“Oh, shit!” Kono says after her latest turn, looking at her phone. “It’s late. We really gotta hurry, Chin, or we’re gonna be late for dinner at Auntie’s.”

“You two go ahead,” Steve says with a wave of his hand. “Chin’s car is here anyway. Danny and I can take the boat back to the docks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. One of us will take your car home, and we’ll get it all straightened out tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, boss,” Kono says with a sigh, handing over her keys.  

Steve gets the boat as close to the shore as he can so Kono and Chin can wade in to the beach where Chin’s car is parked. Then it’s just him and Danny. Who’s still shirtless. It’s  fine—he can handle it.

“So I’m guessing this is a little smaller than all those boats you drove in the Navy, right?” Danny asks, motioning with his hands as if he’s driving a car.

“Okay, first of all, those are _ships_. Not boats. And you know I wasn’t actually steering the ship, right?”

“How would I know?” Danny says as he throws his hands up in the air. “Every time I ask, all I get is an aneurysm face and something about it being classified.”

“Well, that’s mostly true. But I can safely tell you that I had nothing to do with the _driving_ of the ships.”

“So is that why you drive my car all the time? You’ve built up years of resentment about not being able to drive.”

“No, I just drive your car because it pisses you off,” Steve says, accidentally revealing a little more than he meant to. It’s true, though—arguing with Danny makes his blood sing through his veins, and he loves to hear him rant. It’s as close to foreplay as he can get with Danny, and he’s long past thinking that that’s weird.

“Can you stop the boat?” he asks, suddenly, and Steve whips his head around.

“Why? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Oh, calm down,” he says, rolling his eyes. “The sun is setting and we should stop to enjoy it. Can you, I don’t know, stop or anchor it or something?”

Steve stifles a laugh and nods. “We can just float.”

He cuts the engine and starts to lean against the railing, but Danny pats the seat on the bench next to him. Steve hesitates for a second, postponing the decision as he reaches into the cooler and uncaps two beers—he knows that he should resist extended physical contact, for his own emotional health. _Yeah, right_ , his brain tells him as he immediately moves to sit next to Danny. He’d like to consider himself a mentally strong person, but he has exactly zero resistance to speak of when it comes to this guy.

“I didn’t know you were really a ‘gaze at the sunset’ kinda guy,” he says as he hands over one of the beers, and Danny socks him in the arm.

“Today was—it was nice, okay? And I want to prolong it a bit, so sue me.”

Steve just hums and takes a sip of his beer—he shivers, and he’s pretty sure that it’s not just from the cold liquid.

“God, I’m going to feel this tomorrow,” Danny says, stretching his legs in front of him and shaking them out.

“Old man,” Steve says with a snort.

“Uh, pretty sure we’re the same age, buddy.”

“Have you forgotten that I’m one day younger than you?”

Danny rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. Steve shifts his weight, folding one leg underneath himself and stretching one arm out behind Danny, presumably for balance. He kinda feels like he’s sixteen again, pulling some kind of lame movie theater move, but he doesn’t really care because Danny’s not protesting and his skin is deliciously warm where it’s pressed up against his own.

He touches the cold beer bottle to Danny’s far shoulder, making him jump and immediately retaliate by holding his own bottle to Steve’s thigh. Steve hisses and wiggles a bit but doesn’t move away. “Jerk,” he mutters, as he reaches across Danny to switch the bottle into his other hand.

“You started it,” Danny says with a shrug. He slouches down into the seat a little, so that Steve’s arm slots neatly against the nape of his neck.

Steve stills, afraid to move too much and mess this up. He would never call himself anything resembling romantic, but here on the water, with the sunset and the beer and Danny under his arm…well, _this_ he can do. If this were a girl that he wanted to hook up with, he’d pull some kind of Smooth Dog move right about now—some cheesy line about her being prettier than the sunset—and then probably try to have sex in the boat.

That may be true because Danny’s purely beautiful right now, his features softened by the fading light, but this is _Danny_ , and Steve doesn’t want Smooth Dog anywhere near him. He’s pretty confident in his assessment that Danny is straight—or has _been_ straight, anyway—and he doesn’t want to do anything sudden. So instead he slightly tightens his hold on Danny with a warm squeeze. “That was pretty impressive, you waterskiing out there, I’ll even admit.”

“You looked good out there, too, babe,” Danny says, patting Steve’s thigh and letting his hand rest there. It’s definitely a little too high for any kind of plausible deniability, and Steve can feel the warmth of it through his damp boardies. “You always do.”

Steve tries and completely fails to hide a smile as he takes a sip of his beer, completely content to continue with the long game. He’s pretty sure things are going to turn out just fine.


	7. Day 7 - Family Time

Danny’s heart is just not strong enough for this, okay?

He’s witnessed a lot of terrible shit in his life, but still, he can’t believe that he’s allowed to have  _this_. Nearly all of his favorite people all in one place, which just so happens to be his favorite place.

Steve and Kamekona, standing by the grill and surely arguing about the best way to cook the shrimp.

Grover and Chin and Max and Adam, discussing something about the latest James Bond movie, probably, judging from the snippets of conversation that float over to Danny every once in a while.

Kono and Grace, jumping and shrieking in the waves.

Meanwhile, he’s sitting here in the sand—and not complaining about it, for once—with Charlie, with his  _son_ , showing him the intricacies of building sand castle turrets.

God. He still can’t believe that he has a son. He feels so incredibly grateful to have Charlie. Yeah, part of him is still angry—that he didn’t know, that he missed so much time. But overall he’s just so happy, so overwhelmed that he’s received this gift.

He tries not to dwell on his anger toward Rachel, partly because there are more important things to focus on—like getting to know his son—and partly because it’s a painful reminder of his first few months in Hawaii. When Rachel told him that she was moving Grace to Oahu to be with Stan, Danny felt like his heart was being ripped out, piece by piece. He knew in an instant that he would follow, of course—it was the easiest decision he’s ever made. But leaving his family, his friends, his  _career_...shit, even leaving his preferred climate was pure hell. Moving here had been such a shock to his system, everything from the weather to the food to the language to the “island time.” 

And for a long time, he was so angry. Angry with Rachel, angry with Stan, angry with HPD. Every single day was such a struggle, feeling like a gasping fish out of water and only living for the limited moments that he got to see his daughter, which made the rest of it worth it. But it didn’t make it any easier. And instead of trying to fit in, he tried to stand out  _more_ , with his ties and his accent and his attitude. It was easier that way, a constant  _fuck you_  to anyone who dared to think that he didn’t belong here.

Angry is sort of how he functions, okay?

But then he met Steve.

Sure, he was still angry—the constant, flagrant disregard of proper police procedure really helped with that—but it didn’t seem to affect Steve. If anything, he seemed to  _enjoy_  it. He absorbed Danny’s anger without complaint and sneakily made Danny like Hawaii. He welcomed him into his ohana, he taught him about the culture without making him hate it—hell, within just a few weeks, Steve had interfered in his custody arrangements. 

And almost immediately Danny had felt it, that pull of attraction between them that they like to mask with bickering and squabbling. And seriously, who could blame him? Steve is...magnetic. But even after all these years, he hasn’t been able to risk it. He’s pretty sure that Steve would be all in favor of it, actually—he’s pretty shitty at hiding his affection, and his lovelorn looks are nowhere near as subtle as he probably thinks they are.

He thought it might happen a few times, when defenses were down and one or both of them had been worn down by adrenaline or grief. Danny could have done something and Steve probably would have been right there with him, but something’s always stopped him from making the move, from leaning forward that extra inch, from handing Steve his heart, mangled and battered as it is.

Because he’s pessimistic by nature, and he’s never thought that he could handle the fallout if it didn’t work.  _When_ it didn’t work. Danny strives for stability, and it hasn’t been very present in his life lately. He has Grace, and he has Steve. He’s so terrified of something upsetting that because he fears that he won’t be strong enough to handle it.

Suddenly he realizes that Charlie’s been pretty quiet, so he looks down and has to suppress a laugh at the sight of him sacked out on Danny’s thigh. He doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, so he jumps a little when Steve comes into his line of vision and carefully picks up Charlie, tucking him against his chest without waking him.

“I’ll put him in the hammock, okay? Chin and Adam are still over there.”

Danny coughs. “Sure. Thanks, babe.”

Steve has obviously carved out a piece of his huge heart for Grace, and that same sentiment seems to be applying to Charlie, too. He comes back and stretches out in the sand next to Danny, quiet and seemingly content to just watch the waves. Danny is pretty fucking content, keeping an eye on Grace and Charlie, who he can see if he turns his head. They say having a child is like having your heart walk around outside of your body, and now he has two of those people. Now there’s Charlie, a piece of Danny’s family that he didn’t even realize had been missing until it was there. Maybe he’s starting to realize the same about Steve.

Maybe he has _three_ hearts walking around outside his body.

Fuck, he wants  _this_. He wants Grace swimming in the ocean, he wants Charlie asleep in the hammock, he wants Steve sitting next to him. Sure, he has it right now, but he wants it for real. As in, every day. For as long as he’s lucky enough to have it.

They’ve already survived five years, after all, being together in everything but name.

Danny mostly stays lost in thought for the rest of the afternoon, sparing quick goodbyes for the adults as they leave in various groups. Rachel comes to pick up the kids, and Steve is perceptive and gracious enough to handle the exchange on his own, without Danny even having to ask him.

Seeing Rachel will only remind him of the nasty part of this—the hundreds of precious moments he’s missed out on with Charlie—and he’d like to cling to this curious, welcome streak of optimism for as long as he can.

The open doors mean that he can overhear Steve’s overly polite, stilted conversation with Rachel and his eager goodbyes with Grace and Charlie. He gives somebody a kiss—hopefully not Rachel, Danny thinks absently. He gets up out of his chair when he hears Rachel’s car pull away, and then it’s just him and Steve standing in the entryway of his now-quiet house.

Fuck it.

He doesn’t even have to scrounge around for courage, it just feels so _obvious_. He doesn’t waver or wonder or anything, he just marches right on up to Steve, tugs his head down, kisses him, and fuck if it doesn’t feel like coming home.

Steve’s right there with him immediately, as he always is, and he’s the one deepening the kiss first as he wraps his arm around Danny’s shoulders. Danny feels something inside of him crack open and shake loose, and he’s pretty sure he’s never breathed easier than with Steve’s tongue in his mouth.

Steve pulls back a minute later, but he’s still close enough that Danny can feel the quick gusts of breath against his cheek. “Why now?” he asks, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Danny imagines that tongue doing other things, and his shorts get tighter still.

“My family feels incomplete without you. Being a part of it, I mean. For real.”

God. For a guy who thinks out loud and lives by his words, that’s pretty pathetic. He really thinks he could,  _should_  do better, but Steve’s smile is brighter than the fucking  _sun_ , and Danny has to kiss him again, he just has to. 

Steve pushes him over to the couch, shoving him down, and then shit gets real because Danny gets to see Steve’s stripping skills when he’s really serious about it. And they sure are impressive—Danny finds himself naked immediately, and he feels like he’s floating even though Steve’s not exactly a lightweight on top of him. There is fucking sand _everywhere_ —that’ll teach him not to complain about it—but he can’t really summon up the anger that it deserves when Steve’s throat is right there, close enough for Danny to kiss and bite his way down the corded muscles.

It turns out that Steve groans long and low when there’s a tongue dragging across his nipples, while Danny never knew that being held down by such a hulk of a man would be the turn-on that it is. It’s fast and dirty and probably far less than each of them deserves, but Danny can’t find it in himself to care as he plummets over the edge, his teeth caught on the curve of Steve’s shoulder.

Steve follows him a second later, his breath hot and fast in Danny’s ear, and Danny finally lets himself breathe.


	8. Day 8 - Doing Research

Steve grimaces as he taps the back button and looks for the next link. That one had been a little too clinical for his tastes. Maybe the next one will be better.

To be honest, he never really thought he would find himself in this position: sitting in his kitchen at 7:30 in the morning, researching how to have gay sex on the internet. He’s a grown man, okay—he knows how two men have sex. But frankly…he’s not totally sure how it really _works_. The overall mechanics aren’t lost on him, but he could stand to learn a little more about the details.

Steve never had a need for this knowledge before, but ever since a few weeks ago, when Danny stopped in the middle of yelling at him to stick his tongue down his throat, it turns out that he _really_ wants it.

He’s not sure whether Danny’s ever been with a man before—he would ask, and he’s not really afraid of the answer, but he _is_ afraid of Danny turning that question back around on him. He is completely new at this, like floundering-out-of-his-depth kind of new, and he’d rather Danny not know that. Sure, he can probably tell, but Steve would prefer to hold onto his delusion for as long as he can.

He’s been slowly getting used to the idea of it, to the idea of Danny fucking him. At first, before they even started dating, it was—well, it certainly wasn’t _revulsion_ , but it was along the lines of heavy trepidation. Extreme caution, if you will. Something that seemed wildly out of his comfort zone, but also something that might be a little fun. Maybe. And now it’s a serious possibility in his life. So far he and Danny have stuck to rubbing off against each other like teenagers, hand jobs, and one truly spectacular blow job that he got a few nights ago. But to his own surprise, he’s already ready for more.

Yeah—he could fuck Danny instead. Danny would probably let him, especially if he’s been with guys before and he finds out that Steve hasn’t. But truthfully, Steve’s an overachiever, and he never lets fear stand in his way of a potentially successful outcome. And since the number one rule of any mission is to be prepared, lately he’s been doing some research.

Not with _porn_. Well, mostly not porn. Some of the links are more explicit than others, and Steve’s only human. It doesn’t hurt, though, to see visual evidence of someone actually enjoying it. Because considering some of the things he’s read—it’s a miracle that anyone can enjoy this. If he ever again sees the words _hemorrhoid_ or _prolapse_ , it will be too soon.

“Steve? Babe?”

The sound of the door opening startles him, and he looks at his watch—Danny’s a little earlier than usual. Steve sits up with a start and quickly snaps his iPad shut, thankful that he’s smart enough to use hidden browsers. “Yeah,” he calls out, wincing at the rough note to his voice. “In here.”

“You okay?” Danny asks when he enters the room. “You look—off.”

“I’m great,” Steve says with a smile, reaching out to grab Danny’s arm and tug him down. “C’mere.”

Danny laughs at him but kisses him anyway, slinging one leg over Steve’s thigh. He hums into his mouth, clearly reacting to the fact that Steve’s already mostly hard, and pulls back to look at him in question.

“You look good today,” Steve says with a shrug, which is completely true, if not the whole story.

“Sorry, but I didn’t come by early enough for _that_ ,” Danny says, giving Steve’s crotch a cruel squeeze before standing up again. “My boss, you know, he’s a real ass when I’m late.”

Steve snorts and stands up, readjusting his pants. “Somehow I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, just this once.”

* * *

Later that evening, after work, Steve stifles a moan against Danny’s mouth as he’s shoved through the doorway of his bedroom. He stops at the foot of the bed and strips himself, then Danny. Normally he likes it better when they take their time, but tonight he’s got places to be, things to  _do_ .

Danny pushes him down on the bed, and Steve tugs at him to follow, welcoming his weight on top of him. Making out feels normal and familiar but also completely different because Steve’s never been held down before. Well, not by someone actually strong enough to hold him there, anyway. It turns out he really likes it, being able to thrust up against Danny’s solid weight while they’re making out. And fuck Danny can kiss, which isn’t really a surprise considering how much of a workout his mouth gets on a daily basis.

Steve fumbles blindly in the nightstand and produces a condom and a mostly-full bottle of lube—the best type he could find, of course, thanks to his research—which he shoves at Danny’s chest.

“You sure?” Danny asks, looking more than a little stunned.

Steve just nods—he doesn’t completely trust his voice right now—and flips over onto his stomach. After a lot of thought, this is the strategic position that he’s choosing, and it’s not just because he can hide his reactions in the pillow.

The lube is cold, and Steve immediately winces. Fuck, Danny has big fingers and it hurts. _Mild discomfort, my ass_. But Steve is good with pain, he’s pretty well used to it, so he can handle this. He braces against it and tries to focus on the good sensations instead, like the feel of Danny’s strong hand wrapped around his hip. He squirms and shoves back against Danny, trying to tell him that he’s ready for another finger without having to use his words.

“Shh,” Danny says, smudging a kiss at the nape of Steve’s neck. “Just take it easy. I know this is your first time.”

_Fuck_.

Shit, he must have said that out loud because Danny’s laughing at him now. At least it sounds fond.

“Come here, you giant goof of a man,” he says warmly, flipping Steve over and kissing him. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Maybe,” Steve says mulishly.

“And you’ve been doing research, haven’t you?” Danny asks, but Steve doesn’t dignify that one with an answer. “We don’t have to do this, babe.”

“No, I want to, really,” he says honestly, leaning up on his elbows to kiss him. “Have you done it before?”

“Not with a guy.”

Steve’s face scrunches involuntarily—he does _not_ need to think about Rachel right now—and Danny smiles at him. “C’mon, you need to relax. Let me take care of you.”

Sure enough, after the kisses, the massage, and the blow job, Steve finds himself slumped on his side, lulled into a delicious combination of relaxation and arousal. Danny preps him and it doesn’t even hurt. The first push in burns a little, but Danny props up on his elbow, kissing him, and his tongue is pretty effective at sweeping away any pain in Steve’s life, just like always.

Finally Danny is all the way in and he stays there for a while, running his hand down Steve’s chest and playing with his cock. Impatient and ready for more, Steve shoves his hips back against Danny and tries to spur him into motion. Danny chuckles against his shoulder but starts to thrust gently. His hips are moving lazily, but his calm is belied by his harsh breathing against Steve’s neck and his unforgiving grip on Steve’s hip. He really hopes there are bruises in the morning.

He’s fucked several women, and it always felt pretty good. But this?

God, it’s better than any adrenaline rush he’s ever had, _combined_ , and just like everything else in his life, it’s better because Danny is right there next to him. Steve knows there’s a joke in there somewhere—something about Danny being his back up and how he’s currently behind him—but he’s too busy moaning to find it, and he wouldn’t be able to put together a sentence right now anyway.

Danny’s hand is gripping him just right, stroking him slowly, and this isn’t going to last nearly as long as Steve wants it to. He can’t help it—Danny feels too good behind him, _inside_ him, and he’s feeling things he didn’t even know he could feel. His orgasm seems to build slower than usual, and when he finally comes he can’t move very much as it washes over him, feeling familiar and foreign all at once.

Danny falls over the edge soon after, and Steve can do nothing except slump further over onto his stomach, pulling Danny with him. It’s pretty uncomfortable to kiss Danny over his shoulder like this, but he never wants to stop.


	9. Day 9 - Getting Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for something different, a little AU today!
> 
> ([Now with a sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5754760/chapters/13259710)!)

Some noise catches Danny’s attention while he’s waiting for his train, and as he turns to look, he has to laugh at the tall, dark-haired guy glaring at the map like maybe if he stares at it hard enough, it will start talking to him. Danny’s not one to leave someone in distress, especially someone as attractive as this guy is, so he strolls over. “Hi, there. You need any help?”

“Just trying to figure out this damn map. I thought it was just colors, but these ones have letters—”

“Yeah, the Boston subway system can be a little confusing. Where are you trying to go?”

“Copley.”

“I’m headed there, too, actually, so you can just stick with me if you want.”

“Thanks,” the guy says, looking relieved and maybe a little surprised. “I’m Steve.”

“Danny,” he says, taking the offered hand and enjoying Steve’s strong grip.

“So what—”

Steve’s interrupted by the arrival of the train, and Danny winces at the screeching noise. It’s their train, so he beckons Steve with him and they find an empty pair of seats.

“So you obviously don’t live here.”

“What gave it away?” Steve says, deadpan, and Danny laughs.

“You here for business or pleasure, then?” he asks, wincing inwardly as soon as he says it. That sounded a little more dirty than he intended.

“Just for fun—I’m in the Navy, and I had an unexpected free weekend while I was at the base in Connecticut. This is the nearest big city that I haven’t been to, so here I am. Do you live here?”

“No, I actually live in Hawaii.”

“Whoa, no way!” Steve says, his eyes wide. “I grew up there.”

“Really? I don’t like it that much.”

Steve immediately looks affronted, and Danny can’t help but laugh. “Are you insane? How can anyone not like Hawaii?”

“Eh,” Danny says with a shrug. “Too much sand, too hot, I don’t really like the beach. Annnnd you’re judging me right now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he says instantly. “But you seem like a nice guy otherwise, so I’m gonna try to give you another chance.”

“Wow, how magnanimous of you,” Danny says dryly. “Where do you live?”

“Uh, nowhere, really—at least nowhere permanent. The Navy keeps me pretty busy, so I mostly just bounce around from place to place.”

“And what do you do in the Navy?”

“I was a SEAL, and now it’s mostly Naval Intelligence.”

“Wow. That sounds...dangerous.”

“It’s fun, though,” Steve says with a grin. “What do you do?”

But the intercom crackles, and a voice tells them that they’ve arrived at Copley. Danny gestures at the door, and Steve leads them out, climbing the steps until they’re both blinking in the sunshine.

“What are you up to this afternoon?” Steve asks, slipping on a pair of aviators.

“Uh, nothing, really. This is my first time in the city, so I was just going to wander around, do the Freedom Trail or something. What about you?”

“Same. I really want to see the USS Constitution at the old Navy yard. Do you wanna, uh, hang out? Or are you meeting somebody or anything?”

“Sure,” Danny says, trying to hide a grin. “I mean, you probably need me to keep from getting lost, anyway.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “The big park is that way, right?”

“Surprisingly, yes, you’re right,” Danny says, and he has to dodge out of the way when Steve tries to punch him in the arm.

“So, what is it that you do?” Steve asks, returning to their previous conversation. “A cartographer?”

“What the hell is a cartographer?” Danny says, narrowing his eyes.

“Someone who makes maps.”

“Oh, I see how it is, you think you’re real funny, huh,” he says, but he’s biting back a smile nonetheless. “Anyway, I’m a cop.”

“Ah,” Steve says, nodding. “So you really shouldn’t be talking to me about danger, then. Are you with HPD?”

“Kinda. I was, but the governor just started this new state task force, and the guy who’s in charge picked me to be on it.”

Steve immediately looks wary. “John McGarrett?”

Danny stops in his tracks and stares at Steve. “How the hell did you know that?”

“That’s my dad.”

“Holy shit!” he exclaims. “No way, that’s insane. So you’re the famous Steve McGarrett.”

“Huh?” Steve’s head is tilted, his brow wrinkled, and Danny probably shouldn’t think that he looks so damn adorable when he’s confused.

“Your dad talks about you all the time. _Commander McGarrett, the SEAL_. I feel like I should have recognized you, but I’ve only seen a picture of you as a kid.” 

“Wait, what?” Steve looks floored by this, and now he’s the one who’s not moving.

“I feel like there’s more to this that I don’t know,” Danny says carefully, watching to gauge Steve’s reaction. He barely knows this guy, so he’s going to suppress his normal need to dig down to the bottom of everything.

“Yeah,” Steve says, coughing. “It’s—never mind. Do you know the name of the big park?”

Danny can recognize an abrupt change of subject when he sees one, but he decides to be nice and go with it. “Yeah, Boston Common. And it’s right across that street.”

“Wow,” Steve says when they enter the gate to the park. “This is really nice.”

“It really is.” The city streets are bustling, but it’s calm and quiet inside.

“So I see swan boats, but do they have actual swans?” Steve asks.

“Looks like they might be over there,” Danny says, pointing to where he can just see some white feathers through a group of people clustered near a fence. He spots a comfy-looking bench but Steve stops at a little plaque and reads what’s written there before sitting down next to Danny.

“So the swans are named Romeo and Juliet,” he reports.

“You wanna know something?” Danny asks.

“What?” Steve says, leaning closer.

“Gay swans,” he says, gesturing widely toward the pond.

“No way,” Steve says after a second, tilting his head. “You’re making that up.”

“No, I swear!” Danny says, holding up his hands with a laugh. “Swans mate for life, and they didn’t want to separate them. I read about it this morning.”

“So it’s really Romeo and Romeo?”

“Nope, Juliet and Juliet.”

“Huh,” Steve says, poking his lower lip out. “That seems a little...heteronormative.”

“Right? Boston’s pretty liberal, I think they could do away with the ruse. One of them even lays eggs every year and they take care of them, but they obviously never hatch.”

“That’s really sad.”

“I know! There must be orphan swans out there or something that they could adopt.”

“Maybe gay swan adoption is just too political for them,” Steve says with a laugh.

“Must be.”

“Do you have kids?”

“Yeah,” Danny says, a broad smile spreading across his face as it always does when he thinks of his daughter. “Grace, she’s eight.”

“Is there a, uh, partner?” Steve asks, and Danny shakes his head.

“My ex-wife moved to Hawaii with Grace after we got divorced, and I followed.”

“Oh,” Steve says, looking a little surprised. And maybe a little bummed? “You were married.”

“Yup,” Danny says with a nod. Maybe he has a chance with this guy—after all, what straight guy says _heteronormative_? But he doesn’t really think there’s a non-awkward way to say _don’t worry about my ex-wife, I’m bi,_ so he settles for laying a heavy hand on Steve’s thigh and using it for leverage as he stands up. “Did you wanna go see the USS Constitution?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says. “Do you?”

“Sure, it’s supposed to be cool.”

“Are you sure you haven’t been here before?” Steve says after they find another subway station, jogging to keep up when Danny barely spares a glance at the map. “You really seem to know where you’re going.”

“Nope. I just, you know, know how to read a map.”

“Hey, I’m a great navigator!” Steve protests. “Deserts, jungles, the middle of the ocean. I’m just not good in cities.”

“Well, next time I’m lost in the Hawaiian jungle, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”

“Hawaii has rainforests, not jungles.”

“Good to know,” Danny says wryly.

The ride to Charlestown is short, and soon they’re walking up to the Navy yard.

“Whoa!” Steve says, walking quickly to the edge of the dock near the ship. “Man, that’s cool.”

“That big boat?” Danny says, though he’s smiling because the boyish delight on Steve’s face is nothing short of adorable.

“Yes, Danny,” Steve says, with fond exasperation. “ _That big boat_ is very cool. In the 1790s, when the Navy was created, they built six frigates, and this is one of them. It’s the only one left.”

“I have no idea what a frigate is,” Danny admits.

“It’s just a fast, powerful ship. George Washington named her, and she was built right here in Boston. She can even still sail under her own power.”

“Okay, that’s actually really cool. But why do people use ‘she’ when referring to ships?”

Steve laughs. “Be careful who you ask that question, you can get some pretty sexist jokes. But most people think it’s either because goddesses were thought to ‘look after’ ships, or because the root word for ‘ship’ was originally a feminine noun.”

“Do you actually know everything about the Navy?”

“No,” Steve says with a smile, “but I know a lot, and I’m about to learn some more. C’mon.”

They walk through the museum and do the whole tour, though most of Danny’s enjoyment comes from watching Steve, who soaks up the information like a sponge and strikes up a conversation with nearly everyone working there. Eventually they’ve seen everything there is to see and head back outside so Steve can get one last look at the ship.

“So, about my dad,” he says.

A little startled, Danny twists to look at Steve, who is very determinedly staring straight out toward the ocean. He wants to say something like “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” but his insatiable curiosity doesn’t let him.

“Yeah?”

“When I was a teenager, my mom was killed.”

Danny winces. “I knew she had died, but John’s never talked about it and I didn’t know when it had happened. I’m really sorry, Steve.”

“Thanks,” Steve says with a short nod. “After…it was like my dad just couldn’t handle being around us, so he sent me and my sister away.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, exhaling a humorless laugh. “Anyway, we haven’t talked all that much since then, and I’ve only been home a couple times.”

“I know it’s not my place,” Danny says carefully, “so feel free to tell me to fuck off. But John loves you so much, and he’s so proud of you. And as a dad, I can tell you—the desire to protect your kid can make you do crazy shit, and I don’t think that feeling ever goes away. I’m not saying what he did was right, at all, but I bet it would help if you talked to him and tried to figure all this out.”

Steve’s silent for a minute. “Maybe I will. I have some leave saved up.”

“You should. Plus, this guy I know tells me that Hawaii is really nice.”

Steve laughs, and then his expression turns serious as he takes a step closer. “Come have dinner with me,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” Danny says with a small smile. “So was this your whole mission for the day? Pretend to look lost and wait for some guy to come to save you?”

“Oh, I’m not picky, it could have been a girl,” Steve says, shrugging, but there’s a twinkle in his eye so Danny laughs as he smacks Steve on the arm.

“Just for that, _you’re_ buying dinner.”

“Deal. And for the record, I really was lost. You were a pleasant surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I obviously intended this to be a one-shot, but I actually really like this little AU! I might have to continue it. 
> 
> (Edited to add: [here's the sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5754760/chapters/13259710)!)
> 
> And yes, Boston really does have lesbian swans named Romeo and Juliet.


	10. Day 10 - Meeting with the Governor

“But why does the governor want to see _me_?”

“I don’t know, Danno,” Steve says, which is the same answer he’s given half a dozen times to Danny since the governor called him this morning. “He just said he wants to talk to both of us, and I decided not to interrogate him about it.”

“I just think it’s weird, that’s all,” Danny says as he drums his fingers against the car console. “I kinda feel like I’m being called to the principal’s office.”

Steve laughs. “Have you been breaking the rules again?”

“Only when I’m watching your ass, pal,” he shoots back. “Cleaning up your messes is a full-time job.”

“Thank goodness I have you,” Steve says dryly as he finds a parking spot. “Let’s hurry, we almost late.”

“If I would have known I was going to see the governor, I would have put on a tie this morning,” Danny mutters as he smooths his hair.

“Oh, you look fine,” he says, giving him a cursory glance. _I like you without a tie_ , he thinks but pointedly does not say.

Danny scoffs. “As if I’m taking fashion advice from you, you’d probably wear cargo pants to meet the president. And I _know_ it was you who stole my emergency tie from my office.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve says mildly. “Oh, look, we’re here. Hi, Jonathan.”

“Hi, Commander,” the governor’s assistant says with a smile. “He should be ready for you guys in just a minute.”

“Thanks,” Danny says, tugging Steve over to a pair of armchairs in the waiting area. “This better not be anything bad.”

“Yeah, I hope not,” Steve says, frowning. He hasn’t really thought about this all that much, but of all the reasons that Denning would want to talk to them, most of them aren’t good. He’s trying to remain optimistic about the new governor. He hopes that he’s not, you know, as dirty as the last one, though he seems like a fairly reasonable guy so far. “You think it’s about that drug bust last week?”

“I hope not, for your sake,” Danny says with a snort.

“The building was already condemned, anyway,” Steve says, more than a little defensively. “And it was a completely controlled explosion.”

“Gentlemen!” Denning says as he comes through the ridiculously large door to his office. “Come in.”

He shakes both of their hands, and soon they’re seated in front of his desk. Man, Danny’s right—this does feel like being called to the principal’s office.

“So,” he says, shuffling some papers around on his desk. “We’re all busy, let’s just cut right to the chase here. I assume the two of you are aware of the anti-fraternization policy within HPD?”

He and Danny exchange a glance. What the fuck? Is he going to ask them to rat on some HPD officers? “Uh, yes,” Steve says slowly.

“Now I know I warned you, Commander, that I wasn’t going to be as flexible with _immunity and means_ as our previous governor was. But after some thought, I’m going to waive that policy for 5-0.”

“Excuse me?” Danny asks, and Steve is grateful that he looks as confused as Steve feels.

The governor looks a little exasperated, and Steve feels like he’s missing something incredibly obvious. He fucking hates that feeling. “The anti-fraternization policy that exists for HPD does not apply to you. The two of you don’t have to hide your relationship anymore,” he says slowly and carefully, as though he’s talking to someone who doesn’t understand English very well.

Steve steals a glance at Danny, who is wide-eyed and probably for the first time in his life, completely speechless.  “I’m sorry, what?” he says.

“I appreciate the effort, Commander,” Denning says dryly. “But I’m saying it’s fine. Now, I really would have preferred it if you two told me about this yourselves, but I understand why you didn’t.”

Steve leans forward in his chair, blinking, while Danny still appears to be incapable of doing anything. “What was the impetus behind this decision?” Steve asks.

“Well, I have it on good authority that Detective Williams provides a stabilizing force for 5-0. And knowing your tendency for…unconventional methods, I can see no good reason for separating the two of you.”

“Huh,” is all Steve can come up with. Why in the world does everyone think that they’re together?

“I understand that it’s a formality,” Denning continues, “but I’m going to need you two to sign this, officially acknowledging your relationship.”

Flustered, Steve has no idea what to say. He doesn’t really know how to handle that particular emotion, so he mechanically leans forward and signs the paper, not even bothering to read it. He and Danny have a quick, wordless conversation with their eyes— _why the fuck are you signing that?; what else do you expect me to do, this is awkward as hell_. Their ability to have a telepathic conversation really does come in handy a lot. Danny scowls at him, that scowl that tells him they’re going to have _words_ later, but signs the paper after Steve shoves it in his direction.

Oh god, maybe he gets it.

“That’ll be all, gentlemen,” Denning says, standing. “Have a good day, I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon.”

Not a word is spoken as they leave the governor’s office, exit the building, and walk toward the Camaro. Steve puts the keys into the ignition but doesn’t start the car, choosing instead to just sit there and look at Danny. He can’t tell how he’s feeling about this, which is rare, and he has no idea how this is going to go.

“So,” he starts.

“The governor thinks we’re fucking,” Danny says bluntly, and Steve grimaces.

“Please don’t say those two words in a sentence together ever again.”

“What the _fuck_ , Steven?” he yells. “Why does the governor think that we’re _together_? Did you tell him that?”

“No!” Steve protests. “Of course I didn’t. I have no idea why he thinks that.”

“And why did you sign that paper? Now it’s on _record_ that we’re in a relationship!”

“What the hell was I supposed to do? _Sorry, Governor, we’re actually_ not _together_.”

“Yes!” Danny says, throwing both his hands in the air. “That is exactly what you should have said.”

“I was rattled!”

“You’re supposed to be good under pressure!”

“Not like this! Why didn’t _you_ say something!”

Danny pauses, winces, and then exhales a loud breath. “Okay. What are we going to do?”

“Maybe we should just be together,” Steve snaps, and his eyes widen automatically because he _really_ didn’t mean to say that.

“What did you just say?” Danny says curiously, as though he might have actually heard him wrong.

Oh, fuck. Well, he’s in it now, might as well go for it. “I _said_ , maybe we should just, you know, do it. A relationship.”

“And why, pray tell, would you say that?” Danny says, his arms crossed and his expression carefully blank.

“Well,” Steve starts. “We’re together all the time anyway, we already have medical power of attorney. My house is bigger, so Grace could have her own room and you wouldn’t have to pay rent for that shithole. That would be easier for—”

“Oh, so now this is just a relationship of _convenience_?”

Steve wants to yell at him and kiss him at the same time, which yeah, pretty much sums up his feelings toward Danny. He’s already done the first one enough today, so he leans over the console and shuts him up with his mouth—which, truthfully, he’s always yearned to do. And it works even better than he had expected. Danny gasps against his mouth, so Steve takes advantage, sweeping his tongue against Danny’s and taking control of the kiss. Danny pushes back against him, as he always does, and winds one arm around Steve’s shoulder to hold him there while he grabs a fistful of his t-shirt with his other hand. Eventually, somebody breaks away, and they stay there for a second with their foreheads pressed together, breathing against each other’s mouths.

“So,” Danny says. “Not just convenience then.”

Steve smiles and kisses him again, just because he can, and this time he gets a hand into Danny’s hair, using his grip to hold him in place.

“You’re such a moron,” Danny says, but there really isn’t any sting in it when he sounds as breathless as he does. “I can’t believe it took the fucking _governor_ to be matchmaker.”

“At least all the paperwork is already taken care of.”


	11. Day 11 - Blind

“What the hell is this?” Danny asks. He looks up at Steve, who just dropped a stack of paper on his desk and is looking about as smug as a cat depositing his kill for his owner.

“It’s the report.”

“What report?”

“All the paperwork from the Rackerson bust last week,” Steve says, and Danny blinks. He rifles through the pages, and sure enough—that’s what it is. What the hell? Since when does Steve write reports?

“Did you do this?”

“Of course I did!” Steve protests.

Danny nods, his lower lip poking out, and flips through the pages once again. “Wow, I don’t even have to forge your signature.”

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

“No, I trust you,” Danny says, and Steve grins. He’s never doubted Steve’s ability to write a report—he was in Naval Intelligence, for god’s sake, and Danny knows they must have had a lot of paperwork, you can’t convince him otherwise—but up til now he didn’t really think Steve would actually sit still long enough to do it. But here it is, the evidence is in his hands and still warm from the printer. “Thanks for doing this.”

“You’re welcome. You wanna, uh, you wanna come over for dinner tonight?”

“Sure,” Danny says, nodding agreeably. Shooting the shit with Steve is always more enjoyable than sitting in his lonely apartment, and the guy does make a mean steak.

* * *

But of course, because Steve is Steve, they stop for some beer on the way home and in the process, manage to interrupt a robbery. The guy has a knife but Steve disarms him easily, and then he’s not too much trouble after that. Danny slaps cuffs on him but lets Steve haul him to feet as he pulls out his phone to call it in to HPD.

“Hi, this is Detective Williams from Five-0. We’ve just made an arrest for an attempted robbery, and we need an officer for pick-up. No injuries.”

“Of course. Where are you?”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Danny whips his head around, watching in shock as Steve calmly recites the Miranda rights.

“Hello? Detective Williams?” the tinny voice in his ear says.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, dragging his eyes from Steve. “We’re at 10th and Waialae.”

“An officer will be there shortly.”

Danny says thanks and hangs up, then turns around to stare at Steve again. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“You just Mirandized that guy!”

“Yeah, so?”

Steve’s staring at him, so Danny just snaps his mouth shut and nods. “Okay, thanks.”

Eventually, after two HPD officers come and take care of their guy, they make it back to Steve’s unscathed. Danny pops the top off two beers before sticking the rest in the fridge and going to join Steve outside.

“Wow,” he says, involuntarily, as he looks around. There are nice outdoor lights that definitely aren’t usually there, and the outdoor table is set, with actual silverware. There’s even a candle.

“Is, uh, is Catherine coming by?” Danny asks. He can’t think of any other reason why it would look fancier than normal, and he doesn’t want to be a third wheel. But then he remembers that Steve asked him over, just as Steve shakes his head.

“Nope.”

“Huh,” Danny says, tilting his head as he sits down. Then it hits him and he laughs. “Oh, are you practicing? Is this a Smooth Dog situation? Do you have to do dry runs of these scenarios, like prep for your missions? That really seems like something that you would do—like, it if would work on me, it’ll definitely work on a girl you wanna fuck.”

Steve grits his teeth and stands. “You know what, Danny, I actually think you should just go.”

“What the fuck, Steve?” he says, spreading his hands. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not feeling well, and I would really prefer it if you left,” Steve says, his voice dry as a bone, and then he disappears inside.

Danny opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and he has _no_ idea what to do here. So he just stands up and leaves.

* * *

The next morning, Danny doesn’t stop by Steve’s to carpool. He’s pretty damn sure that he’s actually not sick, but regardless, Danny reckons that his company would not be appreciated. He still has no idea what happened last night, but he figures that they’ll talk about it eventually. However, when he gets to the office, Steve studiously avoids him.

Frustratingly, all of their leads on their current case seem to have dried up all at once. Normally this alone would put Steve into a bad mood, but today he seems seriously on edge, pissed off enough that he’s snapping and snarling at anyone who dares to come near him.

Near the end of the day, Kono comes storming into his office, closing the door behind her, and Danny automatically raises his hands in surrender. He’s more scared of her than pretty much anyone—he’s not afraid to admit it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hisses.

“What do you mean?” Danny asks, thoroughly confused. “What did I do?”

“You _broke_ him,” Kono says, pointing in the direction of Steve’s office. “Now, I have no idea what happened between the two of you, but you need to fix him before he blows up this entire island or assaults an innocent civilian or does something equally terrible.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” he says lamely.

“For the love of god, Danny, he looks worse than he did when we lost that kid a few months ago.”

Danny winces—that had been a really bad day. “But what makes you think I have anything to do with it?”

Kono just stares at him for a second, and for some reason he wants to disappear through the floor. “The two of you are always involved. Of course it’s about you.”

“Okay, setting _that_ aside,” he says, miming that action and giving Kono the evil eye, “he’s the one that’s been acting weird! I really didn’t do anything.”

“Weird how?” she asks.

“He wrote a report, Kono! He did _all_ the paperwork for the last case and signed it and everything—he just showed it to me to check it. He read someone his Miranda rights, _correctly_. This week he has actually waited for backup, _twice_. I think you should be asking what’s up with _him_ because something is clearly wrong. But I have nothing to do with it.”

Kono just stands there, her mouth open, before collapsing into a chair and cradling her head in her hands. ”Oh my fucking god, you are _so_ dumb.”

He feels vaguely about three steps behind, which is par for the course lately with people younger than him. “I won’t disagree with you, but I’m also not following you. Like, at all.”

“He is trying to woo you,” she explains calmly. 

Danny opens his mouth and then closes it again, completely at a loss for words. “You’re insane,” he says finally, because deflection is always a solid course of action.

Kono scoffs. “Nice try, but no. Think about it. He’s doing all the things that you normally yell at him about.”

“Oh, dear god,” he says, dazed. How did he not see this? “Fuck, this is Rachel all over again.”

“What do you mean?” Kono asks, and he laughs, a little maniacally. As if he’s ever telling her _that_ story, about how it took him a decade to find out that Rachel had hit him with her car on purpose.

“Um, no. You already make fun of me enough.”

Kono looks like she wants to protest but thinks better of it. “Fine. How long has he been like this?”

Danny _really_ doesn’t want to think about that too much because he’s pretty sure that he’ll be pretty embarrassed by the answer that he finds. “He got pizza the other day without pineapple on it,” he confesses, and Kono groans.

“God, it’s worse than I thought. Okay, now that your head is out of your ass, think about it. Why is he so pissed off?”

Danny thinks for a minute and then grimaces. “He had this nice dinner planned last night, and I just made fun of him. God, I’m such an asshole.”

She frowns. “Oh, man. So what are you going to do? No, you know what, never mind—I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do. You are going to march in there, right now, and tell him that you appreciate his efforts, strange as they may be, and that you feel the same way. And then you’re going to take him home, and you’re not allowed to bring him back until he’s normal again. You got it?”

Danny just blinks at her for several long seconds. “What if I don’t, uh, return his feelings?”

He’s a little offended when Kono laughs. _Loudly_. She’s right, of course, but still.

“Okay, first of all,” she says, rolling her eyes, “that’s complete bullshit. But even if it _was_ true, I’d probably make you do it anyway, just for the sake of the team. Can you even imagine him being like this every day?”

She shudders, and Danny has to agree. “Do you really mean right now, though?”

“Yes, right now!” she yells, and it startles him out of his chair.

Danny starts for the door but pauses with his hand on the knob before turning back around. “I have no idea what I’m going to say.”

Kono gives him the stink eye as she forcibly pushes him out the door. “Just start with ‘I’m sorry.’ You’re good with words, you’ll figure it out.”

Danny’s glare is unimpressed—he’s going to stumble over his tongue in there, he just knows it—but he heads for Steve’s office anyway. The closed door doesn’t stop him, he pushes it open and steps inside, closing it behind him. “Hi.”

“What do you want?” Steve says flatly, without looking up from the folder on his desk. God, his blank eyes are the worst.

Danny feels awkward standing, looking down at Steve, so he sits carefully in the chair in front of his desk. “I just wanted to say—I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” he asks, still avoiding eye contact.

“For last night. I was a giant dick, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” Steve says absently, as though he’s actually absorbed in what he’s reading.

Danny grits his teeth—he’s going to make Steve talk about this. “It’s not fine!” he growls, rocketing up from his seat to circle the desk and stand in front of Steve, who finally looks up at him in surprise.

“Danny,” he starts. At least he sounds pissed now, that’s a hell of a lot better than Robo-Steve.

“No—just let me get this out, okay? I’m a complete idiot, and I’m sorry I didn’t, uh, get what you were doing. I never ever thought that this could ever happen, so I wasn’t paying attention. And I’m just an idiot.”

He braces his hands on the arms of Steve’s chair, and as he leans in, he spares a thought for Kono—he’s going to _kill_ her if she’s wrong and he gets punched in the face for this. But then Steve lunges up to meet him halfway, and yep, looks like she was right. His lips are warm and eager, but Danny matches him stroke for stroke. Steve’s hands are in his hair, Danny’s hands are on his shoulders, and this is all getting a little overwhelming, very quickly.

He finally pulls away because he, unlike Steve, does not have lungs of steel, and he smiles down at him. “Can I please come over for dinner again?”

“Only if you promise to behave this time.”

“You got it, babe.”

* * *

When he finally checks his phone, a handful of orgasms later, there’s a text message from Kono that’s just a single question mark.

He laughs to himself and texts back, _Don’t worry, he’s fixed—we’ll be back at work tomorrow_.


	12. Day 12 - Staring

Danny gapes at the woman, in shock. “I’m sorry, we have to do _what_?”

“As I said, Detective Williams,” the therapist says calmly, “you and Commander McGarrett need to complete this assignment before your next appointment.”

“How many questions did you say it was?” he asks, flipping through the stapled pages that she gave him.

“36. Plus the exercise at the end.”

Danny finds the last page and groans inwardly. God, this is going to be so awkward. He steals a glance at Steve, who’s sitting there mulishly with his arms crossed and is clearly not going to say anything. “Why do we have to do this again? I thought you said we’ve been making progress.”

“Yes, you have,” she says with a nod. “But this experience has been proven to help partners improve their relationship and their communication by inducing vulnerability. I think it will be very enlightening for the two of you.”

Danny doesn’t really know what to say to that, and since Steve’s clearly still obeying his vow of silence, he just thanks her and they leave.

* * *

“So!” Danny says, clapping his hands, after they’re back at Steve’s house. “Let’s do this.”

He groans. “Are you serious, Danno? We don’t really have to do it, she won’t know.”

“Okay,” Danny says, gesturing widely, “I know you like to flout all rules on principle, but maybe we should actually trust the professional here.”

Steve crosses his arms. “I see no good reason for why we have to do this.”

“You gotta admit,” Danny adds quietly, “something’s been… _off_ lately, between us. Maybe this will help.”

It’s true—for the past few months, their usual bantering has been plagued by a dark, snippy edge, and Danny doesn’t feel as close to Steve as he did before. He’s pretty sick of it, and while he doesn’t really know how to fix it, or even what’s wrong with them, he’s willing to try anything.

“I know,” Steve admits as he blows out a breath. “Fine, okay. Let’s get it over with.”

“Good attitude,” Danny says dryly, and Steve glares at him as he heads for the kitchen.

“I need beer for this,” he calls out over his shoulder.

“You better bring me some.”

Steve returns and takes a seat next to Danny on the couch, handing him an open bottle and clinking the necks together. “Cheers.”

“Okay,” Danny says, rattling the leaf of papers in his hand. “We’ve got 36 questions that we have to ask each other. Number one. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

Steve groans. “Really? That’s a stupid question.”

“The more you complain, the longer this will last,” Danny warns, and Steve sighs.

“Fine. Let’s see—I would want to sit down with my mom, dad, and Joe so I could make them tell me the truth about everything.”

“That is annoyingly predictable,” Danny says, but he holds up a hand as Steve starts to protest. “I would pick Jon Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen, and Jon Stewart. It would be a much more fun dinner than yours, I can tell you that much.”

* * *

“Number four—what would constitute a perfect day for you?” Steve reads, then looks at Danny expectantly. He’s still of the opinion that this exercise is dumb as shit, but he really does want to get their partnership back on track. And if Danny wants to do this…he’ll give it a try. He’ll do pretty much anything for Danny, though he’ll never tell him that.

“Um,” he says, twisting his mouth. “Well, Grace would be involved, obviously. No sand, no pineapples, no criminals. And I guess you could maybe be there, too.”

Steve laughs, though his heart is warmed by the fact that he would even be included in Danny’s perfect day. “Let’s see. A nice little firefight in the morning, surfing in the afternoon, ham-and-pineapple pizza at night. And you’d be there the whole time.”

“Well now you’re just saying things to piss me off.”

* * *

“Number nine—for what in your life do you feel most grateful?” Danny asks, and this one is easy. “Grace, no question. You?”

Steve takes a breath. “Five-0. I never thought I could be happy _not_ in the Navy, but our _ohana_ means a lot to me.”

“Okay, I will amend my answer to include the team,” Danny says. He’d like to be more specific—he’s really grateful for a particular member of said team, but since said member is sitting right next to him, he’s going to refrain. “This place was a miserable hell until I met you guys.”

* * *

“Number 12—if you could wake up tomorrow having gained one quality or ability, what would it be?”

“Bulletproof,” Danny answers instantly, and Steve laughs.

“I’m pretty sure it has to be something real.”

“Fine—I guess I would like to…have the ability to control my temper a bit better. How about you?”

“I dunno,” Steve says, shrugging. “I think I’m pretty perfect.”

Danny groans and slumps further down into the couch cushions, his shoulder knocking into Steve’s. “I take mine back, I would prefer you to gain humility instead.”

“Only if you gained the ability to be quiet on command,” Steve shoots back. “But really—I wish I could control my emotions more.”

Danny blinks. Does Steve really think that? For fuck’s sake, sometimes Danny wants to kill the whole damn Navy for teaching Steve that he has to repress his emotions to such a high degree. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? If you could control them any more that you already do, you’d _actually_ be a robot. Trust me, babe, you need to control them _less_.”

* * *

“Number 13—if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?” Danny asks. “Oh, wait, I definitely know the answer to this one, you’d want to know the truth about your mom, right?”

“You got it,” Steve says, hoping that his laugh doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. If he were telling the truth, he’d want to find out Danny’s real feelings toward him. But he can’t tell the entire truth here, no matter how much that damn therapist wants them to. “How about you?”

“I think I would want to see Grace’s future—make sure that she stays happy and healthy and of course, within 20 miles of me at all times.”

* * *

“Number 15—what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?” Steve asks.

“Oh, god,” Danny says, closing his eyes. “Well, the jury’s still out on me being a father, I guess. So I’ll have to go with being your partner, here. We’ve done a lot of good work.”

“Mine is starting and running Five-0, here with you,” he says, and Danny is surprised.

“Huh. I would have thought you’d say something about becoming a SEAL or something Navy-related, at least.”

“I guess I didn’t think about that,” Steve says, tilting his head.

* * *

“Number 17—what is your most treasured memory?”

Steve heaves a sigh. “You remember that Saturday, a few weeks ago?” he asks, and Danny nods. The whole team—plus the requisite extended family members—had come over for a barbecue, and then when Danny and Grace stayed late for a movie, Grace had fallen asleep in Steve’s lap. “When I was serving, guys would talking about having something specific, some memory that they would think of when things were hard. And I never really had one. But if I had to go back, that’s the memory I would pick. I think that could get me through a lot.”

Steve feels incredibly exposed with Danny smiling at him softly like that. But then he shakes his head, breaking the spell. “The first time I was alone with Grace, she was a couple hours old. I was holding her, and she grabbed my finger. Her whole little hand couldn’t fit around my index finger. I knew things would change when she was born, obviously, but that was the first time it _really_ hit me that my life had a completely new purpose. Instead of just me, I was responsible for protecting this tiny little person.”

Steve gulps and nods. One of his favorite things about Danny is his dedication to being a good father. He really hopes that’s not a question because he’s not sure he’ll be able to lie.

* * *

“Number 20—what does friendship mean to you?” Danny asks. He sits back, really eager to hear Steve’s response to this question.

Steve blows out a breath, clearly thinking hard about his answer—Danny probably shouldn’t find that little wrinkle between his eyebrows to be so attractive.

“In my life,” he says carefully, “I have worked with tons of people, I have trusted a lot of guys to have my back. But I haven’t had that many true, deep friendships, so it means the world to me. I’m so grateful to have you, Danno. And Chin, and Kono, and Grover.”

At a loss for words, Danny reaches over—not very far, since they’ve kinda migrated together to the middle couch cushion—and pats Steve’s thigh. God, what can he say that’s gonna match up to that? “Let’s see. To me, friendship means supporting someone, no matter what, and always having their back. Caring for their well-being more than your own and just being there. And I am lucky to be able to do those things for you, and for the rest of our team.”

Steve seems to be blinking a little more rapidly than usual, so Danny figures he did okay.

* * *

“Number 22—alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items,” Steve says, and Danny hoots.

“Ooh, boy, you’re actually going to have to compliment me,” he says, grinning. “I know it’s going to be tough, but you can do it. C’mon.”

Steve forces a smile—if only Danny knew. It’s going to be tough to limit it to a short list. “Okay, let’s see, you’re loyal, smart, and a hell of a good cop.”

“Aw, I knew you appreciated my detective skills.”

“Well, it’s mostly just about the paperwork,” Steve lies. But Danny laughs, and the proud grin on his face doesn’t budge.

“As much as I call you insane, babe, you’re actually incredibly smart. You’re honest, and I know I can count on you and trust you.”

Steve tries to hide his smile behind the rim of his beer bottle. He always figured that Danny didn’t _really_ think he was crazy, but it’s good to have that confirmed.

* * *

“Number 26—complete this sentence ‘I wish I had someone with whom I could share...’” Danny says.

Steve racks his brain, but he can’t think of any plausible answer—shit, he’s not going to be able to lie about this one. “Nothing,” he says honestly. “I can tell you anything.”

“Really?” Danny says quietly, after a moment. “Because sometimes I feel like there are a lot of things you can’t tell me.”

“I know,” he says, pointedly not looking at him. “But that’s my fault, it’s not on you. I know I _could_ tell you anything.”

God, that probably reveals more than he really wants to, or _should_. When he finally feels brave enough to raise his gaze, Danny appears to be somewhat satisfied by that answer. “I feel the same way,” he says, and Steve relaxes.

* * *

“Number 28—tell your partner what you like about them: be honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met,” Steve says, looking at Danny expectantly.

“Okay,” he says, heaving a sigh. “I, uh, I like that you’re handsome. I mean, I wouldn’t tell that to a guy that I just met. But, you know, we’re together a lot, I gotta stare at your dumb face all the time, so at least it’s not ugly.”

Steve just blinks, and Danny suddenly wonders whether he’s crossed a line. But, then again, Steve _did_ just pretty much tell him that Danny’s the person he’s closest to, so he’s hoping not.

“Uh,” Steve says with a cough. “I really like that you’re such a good father, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that before. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Danny smiles, pleased that Steve doesn’t seem too freaked about what he said and also that his answer was equally personal. He’s pretty sure that Steve has referred to him as a good father, but he’s never said that he _likes_ it. Interesting.

* * *

“Number 30—when did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?” Danny asks.

Steve winces as he’s hit with a wave of unpleasant memories. “After the Wo Fat thing. For both questions—you know.” When he first got home from the hospital, he sat on the beach and cried, with Danny right next to him. And that first night, alone in his bed, he’d definitely shed a few tears.

“Well, last time with another person was with you, coming home from Columbia,” he says. Steve nods, remembering. Danny sat next to him on their plane ride home and had cried silently on his shoulder nearly the whole way. “And the last time by myself—I, uh.”

Danny’s biting his lip and looking away, so Steve reaches over and grasps his knee. “You can tell me.”

“It was that same night,” he says, finally, and it sounds like he’s putting a lot of effort into keeping his voice steady. “That first night you came home, when I stayed with you. I was so _mad_ about what he had done to you, and I was so frustrated because I didn’t know how to help you. So…yeah.”

Floored, Steve has no idea what to say to that. God, at the very least they should have been crying _together_. He realizes that his hand is still on Danny’s knee, so he squeezes a little harder and stays silent for a minute.

* * *

“Number 33—if you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?” Steve asks, reading the words numbly off the page.

He leans back a little, putting more space between him and Danny, and waits for him to go first. But Danny shakes his head and gestures toward him. “You go.”

“I, uh,” he stutters, his thoughts spinning wildly in his head. He knows what he _should_ say—that he would regret not revealing his true feelings to Danny, which is so fucking true that it makes his heart hurt—but for some reason he just _can’t_. He knows Danny’s revealed a lot of personal stuff tonight, a lot of stuff involving _him_ , but that’s just how Danny is, right? That’s just good friendship. “I would regret not making more of an effort with my dad when he was alive, in those last several years when we weren’t talking very much.”

 _Coward, coward, coward_ , his inner voice is chanting, and Steve can’t seem to make it shut up. Danny’s eyes shutter and turn dull right in front of his face, and suddenly Steve’s stomach is twisted in tight knots, making him hold in a gasp. Somehow he feels like he ruined everything.

“I’d regret everything about my brother,” Danny says, his gaze turned firmly away from Steve’s. “Not having helped more before he—he left.”

* * *

“So what’s this final thing we have to do?” Steve says crisply.

A cloud had settled over them after their awkward answers to question 33—Danny’s real answer sure as fuck didn’t involve his brother, but he wasn’t willing to step out on the ledge if Steve wasn’t there with him—and they sort of rushed through the last couple of questions.

“We have to gaze into each other’s eyes for four minutes. Yeah, I know, it’s ridiculous,” he says, expecting Steve to refuse.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“Wait, what?”

“C’mon. It’s the last thing, then we’re done,” Steve says, rearranging himself on the couch so he’s facing Danny.

“Uh, okay,” Danny says. He fumbles on the coffee table for his phone, and he sets the timer for four minutes before placing it on the cushion behind him.

Steve leans in until they’re about six inches apart, and then they’re off. Well, if nothing else, this will give Danny a great opportunity to finally figure out what color Steve’s eyes really are. He’ll focus on that instead of the painful awkwardness of this whole thing.

“Is this like a staring contest sort of thing?” Steve whispers, and Danny rolls his eyes.

“No, you can blink.”

They only make it about 30 seconds before Steve rips his gaze away and blurts out, “I lied before.” He covers his face with his hands as he rests his head against the back of the couch.

Dazed, Danny leans a little closer. “Huh? About what?”

“The regret thing.”

The words are slightly muffled because he’s still hiding behind his hands, so Danny rolls his eyes and pries Steve’s hands from his face. He tries to hold in his gasp of surprise because Steve looks _wrecked_ , his face drawn, his eyes panicked.

“What do you mean?” Danny asks, belatedly realizing that he’s still holding Steve’s wrists. He doesn’t let go.

“The question before, about regret. If I died, I would regret not telling you that I love you, and not in a brotherly way. It fucking kills me because that could actually happen, just because I’ve been a coward. I’m sorry I didn’t say it.”

Whoa. Danny takes a breath, opens his mouth, but then closes it again. He’s pretty sure that he’s freaking Steve out with his silence, but he really has no idea what to say. So much so that for once, he takes a page out of the McGarrett handbook and decides to go with action instead of words.

Steve squeaks in a really satisfying way when Danny leans over and seals their mouths together, just for a chaste kiss. To Steve’s credit, it doesn’t take him very long to get with the program, and in an instant he morphs the kiss from sweet to dirty, causing Danny to gasp into his mouth. He shifts his hold from Steve’s wrists to his hands, and Steve grips hard, maneuvering them so that Danny is flat on his back.

“Jesus fuck, we’re dumb,” Danny breathes, and Steve chuckles desperately against his mouth. “All of our answers really should’ve been a clue.”

“This is one of those scenarios where you going quiet on command would be really handy,” he says, right into Danny’s ear, and he shivers. He wants to protest, but Steve’s mouth is lower now, his stubble scratching against Danny’s neck in a really interesting way, so he can probably obey for once.

Suddenly there’s a loud, discordant noise, and Danny pulls back to stare at Steve, startled. Then he remembers and laughs. “It’s the fucking alarm.”

He rummages underneath himself, finally unearthing his phone and switching it off before tossing it across the room, not giving a shit about where it lands. Steve takes advantage of his squirming to work a hand beneath him, sliding under his waistband to rest on his ass.

“Can we tell the therapist that we did this instead of the staring at each other thing?” he asks.

“Oh, she probably knows,” Danny says, and he yanks Steve’s head back down to his. Danny worms a hand between them, fumbling until he feels the firm line of Steve’s dick, getting harder by the second. He squeezes, making Steve gasp, and he grins. Danny really wants to move this upstairs, where he _knows_ Steve has a big bed, but he also never wants to get out from under Steve’s weight, ever.

It’s sloppy and dirty and frantic, the two of them unable to think of anything except getting off, right fucking now. It’s over a lot sooner than Danny would like, or would like to be proud of, but he also doesn’t give a shit because Steve is slumped on top of him, panting into his ear, and he feels like he’s floating. He steals a glance down at them and muffles a groan—they weren’t even able to get naked properly, and that’s kind of embarrassing. Steve’s shirt is rucked up under his armpits, and Danny’s is partially unbuttoned and partially ripped. Their pants are down, hanging off their asses, and Danny doesn’t even want to _know_ what his hair looks like right now.

“God, we’re a mess.”

“Shh,” Steve says, against his mouth as he kisses him again, and Danny digs his fingers into his ribs in retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a real thing, and these are the real questions! You can read more [here](http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/11/fashion/no-37-big-wedding-or-small.html).


	13. Day 13 - In Love

Steve is _so_ tired.

Like truly, honestly exhausted. He’s been through a lot of shit in the past decade, but he swears that he hasn’t felt this bad since Hell Week. Thanks to the terrible combination of a nasty case and a really untimely resurgence of Steve’s nightmares, he’s only managed a broken few hours of fitful sleep each day for nearly a week.

He knows that he’s heading into dangerous territory—they all are, really—where the level of sleep deprivation is enough to compromise his ability to do his job. But on a case like this, where kids have been taken and the leads have dried up, none of them can bear the thought of leaving the case alone for the several hours it would take to go home and rest, even though it might be better in the long run.

Kono had nearly fallen asleep on her feet during their last sitrep, so Steve’s banished everyone to their offices for at least half an hour of rest. He’s stretched out on his couch, trying to relax his brain and not think about the case. So he turns to his favorite distraction: Danny. Ah, at least he has Danny. He can think about wonderful, beautiful Danny, who’s been working right alongside Steve this whole time. Steve respects people who work hard, that’s obvious, and Danny works harder than nearly anyone. Steve can see his own tiredness reflected in Danny’s face—the lines around his eyes have deepened, and his jaw is covered with several days’ worth of stubble—but he hasn’t complained for one second, he just keeps plugging away.

It’s part of the reason Steve loves him so much, of course. Loves the easy way they work together, loves how their differing styles match up perfectly, even loves the way they argue about it, and everything else. He also loves how paternal Danny is, how invested he is in making sure that they’re all okay. He’s been the one ushering everyone around, keeping everybody fed, and glaring at Steve when he’s too tough on them.

He lets his thoughts stray to Danny’s ass, Danny’s shoulders, and the images are so potent that if Steve had a unit of energy to spare, he’d be getting hard. Man, that would be so great right about now. A solid mutual orgasm would really take the edge off and help to reset his brain. But they can’t, not in the middle of a case, especially a case like this. That’ll have to wait until it ends, one way or another, and the resulting sex will be tinged with either adrenaline or sorrow. He can’t wait.

* * *

Finally, a few hours later, they get a break. Everything comes together—Charlie finds a trace of DNA, Danny discovers a clue in the financial records, and Cath, after a desperate call from Steve, provides them with an essential satellite image. Steve rallies the troops, and they exhaust the last of their physical and emotional resources rescuing the kids.  They’re tired and terrified, but they’re okay. And even though the pull of sleep is intoxicating, the four of them wait until each child is reunited with their parents.

They drag themselves back to HQ just to dump stuff off, but they end up congregating around the computer table, with adrenaline having provided a small hit to get them through the next few minutes, at the least. Relief, happiness, and exhaustion course through him in equal measure, and all of a sudden he finds himself leaning heavily toward Danny, where their arms are pressed together.

“You okay, babe?” he asks lowly, folding his hand over Steve’s wrist and squeezing.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Steve says with a smile, dipping his head down to kiss him. He leans into it for a second, just enjoying the familiar, comfortable press of lips against lips. But it sets off a little something else, something hot and sharp running through his veins, and that’s what makes him jump back as if he’s been burned.

Holy mother of god.

His love for Danny is not, in fact, common knowledge. Steve is so exhausted that his normal barriers have vanished, and he forgot the important little fact that he’s been _keeping this from Danny_! The same Danny who is currently staring at him as if an alien had just popped out of the top of his head.

“Uh,” Kono says. Goddamn it, Steve’s going to have a lot of explaining to do, to everyone apparently. “We’re just gonna—go.”

He’s too cowardly to look at them, so he just closes his eyes and waits until he hears them leave.

“What the fuck was that?” Danny hisses.

Considering he’s too tired to remember that he’s _not actually dating Danny_ , he’s sure as fuck too tired to come up with a good lie. “I am so tired, and I kinda forgot that we’re not actually together.”

“You _forgot_?” Danny yells.

“You kissed me back!” he says, as he remembers it, because Danny did—he definitely, definitely did. Steve lifts his hands in submission. “I literally cannot deal with this right now. You can yell at me later, all you want, but please let me go home and go to sleep.”

“I—I didn’t…oh, fuck it,” Danny says, but maybe he’s tired, too, because he doesn’t use words and instead just steps up closer to Steve and kisses him again. Steve lets himself sink down into it, fully cognizant this time of how warm Danny’s mouth is and how his lips are as eager as they always are. Danny finally pulls away, and Steve lets out a pathetic little whine, trying to follow. “I will most definitely be taking you up on that offer to yell at you later, but yeah, let’s just go home.”

He truly doesn’t remember the drive home, which is terrifying, but they make it in one piece and stumble up the stairs. Steve only manages to de-weaponize himself and kick off his boots before he’s literally falling, face-first, into bed. He reaches out blindly, groping for Danny, and when his hand touches fabric he grips it and hauls him closer. He uses the very last of his energy to slump himself over Danny’s body, and then he’s out.


	14. Day 14 - In Peril

“Steve.”

“Steve.”

“C’mon, babe, wake up.”

He recognizes Danny’s voice, but he can’t seem to open his eyes—this feels like the worst hangover he’s ever had, multiplied by three. His stomach is reeling, his head feels like it’s in the process of splitting open, and there’s a fiery pain on the side of his neck.

“Steven,” Danny hisses, and it’s only because he sounds freaked out that Steve starts to pry his eyelids open.

“What?” he asks muzzily. Oh god, did they get drunk and sleep together last night? That would explain the headache, anyway. He likes the thought of it but not the execution—that’s not classy at all, and it might not even have been wanted on Danny’s part, judging from that panicked tone he’s got going on right now. Is this his gay freak-out? In light of these thoughts, Steve abandons his quest to opens his eyes. Maybe if he pretends to still be asleep, Danny will just leave, and he’ll be able to wallow in his embarrassment alone, as it should be.

“Steve, goddamn it, open your eyes.”

Shit, now he really sounds pissed, so pretending to be asleep is not going to work anymore. Steve summons all his strength—is it normally this difficult?—and opens his eyes.

Well, fuck.

He is most definitely not in his bed. Or on his couch, or in Danny’s bed, or on the floor, or on the beach, or in the office, or anywhere else he can imagine them having sex—not that he’s imagined it or anything. No, he is in some small, dark, damp room, tied up next to Danny. 

He takes a deep breath, wills away the pain, and turns to Danny. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. I mean, I feel like shit, but nothing’s broken or bleeding. You?”

“Yeah, same. What the hell happened?”

“I have no idea,” he says. “I just woke up a few minutes ago, but I’m guessing they must have taken us just outside of HQ and drugged us.”

“Yeah, that would explain the pain in my neck,” Steve says absently, as he takes in their surroundings. The room is very small, completely empty, with no window and a heavy door. Not much to work with. He can’t feel any rocking, so he figures they’re still on dry land. “Do you think you can get free?”

Danny looks down—his hands and feet are tied with ropes, while Steve’s got cuffs on his wrists and his ankles. “Well, this is a little insulting.” It takes him several minutes of heavy concentration, but he manages to work the knots free on his hands, and then it’s just a few seconds to untie his feet. He pats his pockets, but judging from the disappointing look on his face, he doesn’t find anything. “I don’t have my phone. Hopefully they took it, and Chin and Kono can ping it. I’m going to check you, okay?”

Steve nods and Danny moves closer. His gun is gone, obviously, as is his phone and the pocketknife that he keeps in one of his cargo pockets. “There’s a small knife in my boot,” he says. “Maybe they missed that one.”

Danny checks, and sure enough, there it is. He sends up a quick prayer for less-than-thorough criminals. “I’m never going to make fun of you ever again for being over-prepared. You don’t happen to have a grenade in your underwear, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no. I could make a bad joke, but I won’t.”

Even considering the shitty circumstances, Danny laughs. “Okay, I’m going to go out there.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Steve doesn’t like the idea of that. “Danny, come on—we don’t know who’s out there, or how many of them there are.”

“Yeah, but it’s better than being stuck in here! I’ll have the element of surprise, and you can’t tell me that if the positions were reversed, you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing.” Steve glowers at him but doesn’t have anything to say in response. “I’ll be back, I promise. Just stay out of trouble.” He sidles toward the door and takes a deep breath, Steve’s knife at the ready. The door is, thankfully, unlocked, and he slips outside quietly.

Steve takes a second to meditate and try to calm down. He knows that Danny’s right, that this is the best course of action, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. The thought of Danny being out there, alone, without Steve as his back-up, makes him feel sicker than he already does. He’s got to do something constructive with his time. He feels all along the floor, in the corners, and he finally comes up with some kind of small nail or pin, he can’t really see it. He has to contort himself into a truly awkward position—thank you, yoga—and it takes a while, but he finally frees the cuffs from his ankles, stretching out his legs carefully to get the feeling back into them. He knows that there’s no hope for undoing his hands, though. The cuffs are high and tight, and there’s no way he can even move them around to his front.

Then he hears gunshots—several of them, way too many—and he scrambles to his feet. Oh god, Danny. He knows he shouldn’t go out there, he’ll really just be a liability without the use of his arms and hands, but he needs to be ready when they come for him. He paces in short, tight circles, and then he braces himself when the door finally edges open.

It’s Danny, and he’s never been happier to see anyone in his goddamn life.

He’s covered in blood, but Steve unfortunately has enough experience to quickly determine that it’s not his, thanks to the spatter pattern. He doesn’t have the use of his hands, but he manages to muscle Danny up against the wall anyway. “Fuck, Danno, I heard the gunshots, I thought you were dead,” he says breathlessly, and before Danny can say anything in response, Steve’s kissing him, hard and hot. He’s not going to lie and say it’s the best kiss he’s ever had— being passed out for hours doesn’t help anyone’s breath, and he’s still one wrong movement from spilling his stomach onto his shoes—but somehow it’s great anyway. Plus, he’d long resigned himself to the fact that when they kissed for the first time, there’d probably be blood involved. At least it isn’t theirs.

“Babe,” Danny mumbles against Steve’s lips. “It’s good, we’re fine. Chin and Kono are here.”

“God, you just—fuck,” Steve says, shaking his head. He leans back an inch but doesn’t let Danny step away from the wall. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’re just mad you missed all the action, aren’t you?”


	15. Day 15 - Visiting Another Country

“Danny, what the hell is that?”

Danny looks up at Kono and blinks slowly at her. “Kono, babe, I realize that you live in swimwear, but please tell me that you recognize a winter coat when you see one.”

“Of course I know what it is,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m just asking _why_ you have it when it’s 75 degrees outside.”

“That’s because we’re going to Switzerland,” Steve interrupts as he shoulders through the main door of HQ, balancing a large duffel bag and a tray of coffees.

“Ooh, vacation?” Kono waggles her eyebrows, and Danny instantly regrets getting really drunk that one time and telling her that he once thought about Steve in the shower.

“I wish,” he says with a snort.

“We’re going for a case. You guys remember Paul Vickers?” Steve says. 

Almost in sync, they all grimace. Vickers is a real nasty son of a bitch with fingers dipped in every element of the criminal underworld—guns, drugs, trafficking, all of it. For months, the four of them had worked on his case alongside a veritable alphabet soup of federal agencies, but he eventually left the island and they weren’t able to follow. 

“Has he resurfaced there?” Chin asks, and Steve nods.

“Interpol wants us to come out and go undercover. We’ll be gone a week—I only said yes because we’re between cases, and you two deserve a break.”

“Oh, excuse me, and _I_ don’t deserve a break?” Danny asks, his hand on his chest in indignation.

“Nah,” Steve says easily. “I need my back-up.”

“I deserve an _extra_ vacation for putting up with all your shit,” he mutters, and he most definitely does not meet Kono’s knowing eye.

* * *

Their travel day is long—Honolulu to LA to Zurich—and by the time Danny steps off the final plane, he feels like a human pretzel. At least Interpol springs for business class; he shudders to think how he would feel if they had to fly coach.

“You know where we’re going?” he asks as Steve gets the keys to their rental car and heads for the driver’s side, naturally.

“Of course,” he says with a smirk. It’s cold, obviously, and Danny watches as Steve digs through his bag and then slips on a jacket. He realizes, with slight surprise, that he’s never actually seen Steve wear a jacket, at least nothing like the soft-looking dark blue fleece he’s got on now.

Huh. It’s a good look on him.

“Have you been to Switzerland before?” he asks, not really expecting an answer besides _it’s classified_.

But Steve shakes his head. “Nope, first time.”

Danny enjoys the scenery for the rest of the drive—not just Steve in his jacket—and his eyes widen as a large building, seemingly carved out of the side of a mountain, comes into view. “Holy shit. Is this where we’re staying?”

The whole trip had been planned very last-minute, so he didn’t even get a chance to check into their living arrangements. But he wouldn’t have expected _this_ , some fancy ski lodge that looks more like a castle than a hotel. They park and find the lobby, which is plush and opulent and has a roaring fire, which for some reason reminds Danny that he’s jet lagged and really fucking tired.

“Hi,” Steve says, flashing one of his annoyingly charming smiles to the girl at the front desk. “Robert Randall and Tom Patterson, checking in.”

The woman nods, taps away at her computer, and then grins at them. “Aw, newlyweds. Congratulations!”

Steve blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You two are booked in our honeymoon suite!”

Danny has no idea what’s going on, but considering that Steve still looks a little constipated, he needs to sell this. He slings an arm around Steve’s waist—and yup, that fleece is as soft as it looks—and winks at the girl. “Excuse him, I think he’s still a little drunk from the wedding,” he says, chuckling, and she laughs, her cheeks a little pink.

“Oh, I understand. Here are your two room keys—you’re in room 636. Please don’t hesitate to call the front desk if you have any question.”

Danny thanks her and uses his grip on Steve to steer him away. “What the hell was that?” he hisses, when they’re waiting for the elevator and out of anyone’s earshot.

Steve looks confused for a second, then realization seems to hit and his expression clears. “Ah. Our Interpol contact is an old friend of mine. This is probably payback for that one time...well, I probably shouldn’t tell you about it. Anyway, at least we get a fancy suite.”

“Yeah, but we have to pretend to be married!”

Steve just shrugs and steps into the elevator. “Eh, that won’t be a big deal. We should come up with a story for why we aren’t wearing rings, though.”

“Uh, and a story about how we’re _married_!”

“We’ll just stick to our real life—the best cover is one that’s true.”

“But…we aren’t together!”

“We’ll just add a little part, it’ll be fine.”

Danny glowers at him but calms down a little when he sees their suite. It’s extraordinarily luxurious, with its own fireplace and living room, and the bathroom is practically bigger than his apartment. He makes a beeline for the giant bed—is there a size bigger than a king?—and flops onto it, his arms and legs fully outstretched. “You can take the couch,” he says, his words muffled against the comforter. 

“Yeah, right,” Steve scoffs from behind him. “Our whole team could sleep on that bed with room to spare.”

“Oh, are team orgies your thing now?” Danny says, flopping over onto his back, and Steve just rolls his eyes at him.

“Come on. Let’s go take a walk around. Maybe we’ll get lucky and spot Vickers.”

“Uh-uh,” he says, burrowing further into the pillows. “I am fucking tired, and I am taking a _nap_.”

“Oh, no,” Steve says, forcibly pulling the pillow out from under him. “You’re jet-lagged, and you’ll adjust to the time change much faster if you stay up until a normal sleeping time. It’s only six o’clock, so you gotta make it about four more hours.”

Danny groans but finally sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Fine, fine.” He won’t admit it out loud, but he knows that Steve is right.

“Let’s go explore. Then we come back and get room service.”

The corners of Danny’s mouth pull down, and he tilts his head. “I could probably get on board with that.”

Of course, with their luck, Danny watches their peaceful evening vanish right in front of his eyes when he and Steve spot Vickers while walking through the lobby. “Let’s tail him,” Steve says under his breath, and Danny groans inwardly.

“I feel like we’re unprepared for this,” he says softly, but per usual, Steve ignores his protests and pushes forward anyway.   

They follow Vickers casually, staying several yards behind as he meanders around the property alone. Eventually he stops and looks around, not very thoroughly, before turning down a nearly-hidden hallway. Danny tugs on Steve’s sleeve and gives him a glare—the one that says _let’s talk about this_ —but when Steve just shakes him off, he can’t do anything but lift his eyes heavenward and follow. He’s behind Steve and can’t really see, but judging from his convoluted hand signals, Vickers is going into a room.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses a minute later, ducking back around the corner.

“What?”

“The door must be locked or something because he didn’t go in that room. He’s coming back this way.”

Danny’s eyes widen. They’re pretty sure that Vickers doesn’t know their faces, but it’s going to look pretty fucking suspicious to have two random guys tailing him down a small, offshoot hallway. His stomach fills with dread when he sees Steve’s _about to blow some shit up_ face, but then he can’t think at all anymore because he’s pressed up against the wall and Steve is kissing him.

Once his brain moves past the flashing neon lights and the _what the fuck_ sirens, he acknowledges that it’s actually a pretty good idea—Vickers won’t really be able to see them, and they’ll just seem like a couple of guys looking for a hidden spot to hook up. Steve’s really selling it, too, with his hands in Danny’s hair and his heavy weight against him. A little part of Danny has always wondered what this might be like, but it feels like it’s not his to take—this is a necessary diversionary tactic, and he shouldn’t be enjoying it, or even thinking about it as anything except for what it is. It’s not the easiest task, what with Steve’s tongue in his mouth and all, but he manages to block out most of the sensations.

Steve pulls back a minute later and cautiously looks behind himself. “Okay, he’s gone. Let’s go.”

Considering that it takes Danny an extra minute to push himself off the wall and follow, he’s grateful that Steve at least sounds a little breathless. They lose Vickers nearly immediately, and Danny has to calm Steve down by reminding him that they’re here for a full week and they’ll have their chance.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says with a sigh. “You hungry? Let’s go eat.”

Danny nods, and they make their way back to their suite. He’s not going to let himself bring up the kiss, and since he _knows_ Steve won’t, he figures they’re pretty much in the clear. Sure enough, it does not come up as a topic of their dinner conversation, and things between them don’t really even seem awkward.

Hallelujah, Danny thinks.  

“Believe it or not, we have a hot tub on the deck,” Steve says, after he puts the room service cart outside their door. “You wanna use it?”

“I certainly don’t have anything to swim in. You—oh god, you brought swimming trunks, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” he says mildly. “And it’s fine, you can get in with your boxers. I’ll go change.”

Before Danny can protest, Steve disappears into the bathroom. With a shrug, he heads outside and shivers while he turns on the hot tub and waits for it to warm up. He checks over his shoulder for Steve and then strips quickly down to his boxers. He moans as he slips into the hot tub—god, that water feels good.

“Well, judging from that noise you just made, I’m guessing it’s nice in there.”

Danny’s glad that the darkness and the heat of the water hide the pinkness of his cheeks as he turns around to see Steve holding a bottle of champagne and two flutes. “They had it in the fridge. We’re on our honeymoon, right?” he says with a grin, and Danny laughs.

“Might as well take advantage of it. Thanks, babe,” he says, watching with a little smile as Steve pops the cork and dances out of the way of the spray.

“Oh, wow, this is nice,” he says as he steps in, settling across from Danny and handing him a glass. “What a view.”

“Tell me about it.” It’s weird to be half-naked in a hot tub while there’s snow on the ground, not to mention a mountain in the background, but Danny’s feeling too good to worry much about it.

“I’ve always wanted to open a bottle of champagne with a sword,” Steve admits, lifting his glass to eye-level.

“Well, thank you for your restraint,” Danny says dryly. “With our luck, someone would probably end up bleeding.”

“I know how to handle a sword,” he says with a scoff, and Danny just raises his eyebrows.

“This hot tub and this champagne really aren’t helping me stay awake.” Danny slouches down so that his chin is just above the water and rests his head back—he hasn’t been so relaxed in a long time. He always feels more peaceful when he’s in Steve’s presence, for some reason, and the alcohol and the heat certainly don’t hurt. He knows that he should be more stressed out about the upcoming week and the dangerous criminal that they’re trying to catch, but right now he just can’t get that worked up about it.

Danny drains his glass and hands it to Steve, but instead of refilling it, he sets it on the side of the hot tub alongside his own and wades closer so that he’s next to Danny. He thought that he had all of Steve’s faces catalogued, but this seems to be a new one. Maybe a mix of fear, which is a version Danny doesn’t see very often, and determination. “What are you doing?” he asks, a little wary.

“I’m making a calculated decision,” Steve says softly.

He slips forward in the water and uses a hot hand on Danny’s face to tilt his head before leaning in. The kiss is gentle and chaste, but considering what Danny got a brief taste of earlier, that’s not what he wants. He yanks at Steve to move him in between his legs and deepens the kiss, thoroughly enjoying the slide of his tongue against Steve’s as he takes control. For once, Steve actually lets him, running his hands down Danny’s chest and arms and allowing him to plunder his mouth as he sees fit.

This is certainly no diversionary tactic that Danny’s aware of, so he lets himself actually revel in the sensations of Steve’s warm lips, his big hands on his thighs, and the overwhelming heat between them. He moves from Steve’s mouth down his jaw to his neck and finds a sensitive spot beneath his ear that induces a really satisfying noise. It travels straight to Danny’s cock, and he realizes that he’s urgently, painfully hard already.

“A calculated decision, really?” he says as he pulls away to take in Steve’s bitten-red lips and his messy hair. “You’re so romantic.”

“We are in _Switzerland_ , in a hot tub, with champagne,” Steve says, punctuating each phrase with a kiss to Danny’s neck. “If that’s not romantic enough for you, you have some seriously high standards.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Shut up, Danno,” he says with a fond smile as he dips back down.


	16. Day 16 - Celebrating a Holiday

“So we need to talk about Sunday. Are you guys free?”

Kono’s eyes light up, and she answers Steve first. “You mean Lei Day?”

“Exactly,” he says. “We’ve been invited to participate.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Danny says, making a T-shape with his hands. “What the hell is Lei Day?”

“It’s a Hawaiian holiday, celebrated for almost a hundred years,” Chin says. “All about leis.”

“And why exactly do we celebrate leis?” he asks.

“Because leis are the physical manifestation of the aloha spirit,” Steve says, smiling because Danny said _we_. “Which is the core of Hawaiian culture.”

“Okay,” Danny says with a nod. “So what do we have to do with this?”

“There’s a big event at Kapiolani Park, and the governor has asked us to attend. A good photo op, probably.”

“It’s fun—there’s a contest, hula performances, leis for sale, classes on how to make them,” Kono says. “There are celebrations all over the island. Grace is probably doing something with her school.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s been practicing for a hula. But I thought she said _May Day_.”

“Most places, May 1 is May Day,” Steve admits. “But here it’s Lei Day.”

“Do we need to get leis?” Kono asks.

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve says. “Just meet me here at 11 on Sunday.”

“And be prepared for a lot of _getting lei’d_ jokes,” Chin says. 

“Duly noted,” Danny says with a nod.

* * *

Steve walks into HQ on Sunday morning juggling five boxes, and he shoots a grateful look at Chin when he holds open his office door. ”Thanks, brah. Kono and Danny here yet?”

“Nope, just me. And I brought coffee.”

“Good, at least Danny will be happy.” 

Steve stacks the four identical boxes on his desk and sets the larger fifth one down next to them. Chin steps closer to peek into the big box, which has a clear lid, and his eyes widen when he sees the lei. “Whoa,” he says, whistling lowly. “Who’s that one for?”

“Danny,” Steve says, being careful not to look Chin in the eye.

“I didn’t know you guys were together,” he says softly, and Steve shakes his head.

“We’re not.”

“Then why the—” Chin says, gesturing toward the lei.

Steve just shrugs. He’s not really sure himself. “It’s a nice lei. He won’t know what it means, anyway.”

“Is it—I mean, do you _want_ him to find out what it means?”

Both of their heads turn at the sound of Kono and Danny entering HQ, and Steve is thankfully saved from answering that question. 

“Ooh,” Kono says, grinning as she walks into Steve’s office. “Are we all getting lei’d?”

Danny groans. “Oh god, it’s going to be a long day, isn’t it.”

“Aw, come on, Danno, getting lei’d is the best way to start the day,” Steve says, and his smile widens when Danny definitely blushes. “I’ve got ‘ilima leis for all of us.”

“Oh, wow, these are beautiful,” Kono says as she carefully lifts one from its box. “I’ll put yours on, boss, come here.”

Steve ducks down in front of her, letting her place the lei around his neck and buss him on the cheek before he stands up again. 

“Why can’t you just put it on yourself?” Danny asks.

“It’s not tradition,” Chin explains. “When you give someone a lei, you’re sharing part of your spirit with them.”

Steve repeats the process with Kono and Chin, then turns to Danny. 

“Okay, what else do I need to know?” Danny asks, holding up his hands when Steve steps up to him. “I’m afraid I’m going to screw up and accidentally insult some Hawaiian goddess or something.”

Steve feels warm from the inside—Danny seems to be giving this tradition more respect than he had expected. “Well, you can’t refuse a lei when somebody gives one to you. You shouldn’t take it off in their presence, and you shouldn’t ever throw it away. You have to accept a kiss on the cheek, and you’re supposed to lean down so the person giving it to you doesn’t have to raise their hands too high—but you probably won’t have a problem with that,” he says, grinning at Danny’s indignant snort.

“I think I can do that, funny man. Come on, then, lei me.”

Steve stifles a smile as he leans forward to brush his lips against Danny’s scruffy cheek and put on his lei. “There you go.”

“I’m going to venture a wild guess and say that this flower means something,” Danny says, gently fingering the golden-yellow blossoms around his neck.

“The ‘ilima is the official lei flower of Oahu,” Steve says.

“All of the different islands have different types of flowers and leis,” Kono says. “You’ll probably see a lot of lokelani, which are pink. That’s Maui’s flower.”

“And now Danny gets another one,” Steve says, turning back to his desk.

“Hey, hang on, why do I get two?”

“Because this is your first Lei Day,” he says. Kono gasps a little when he lifts the lei out of its box, but out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Chin elbow her in the ribs and whisper something in her ear.

“This one looks different.”

“Nice detective work there, Danno,” Steve says as he puts the lei on him and adjusts it so that the bow is resting on his left shoulder. This one is open, with the ends hanging down past Danny’s waist, and is a dark green vine with red flowers twisted into it.

“Nice lei, Danny,” Kono says, her eyes bright with poorly-hidden amusement.

“Thank you,” he says with a mock bow, looking down at himself. “I feel like some sort of king.”

* * *

Steve finds a bench at the edge of the park, and he stretches out gratefully on it, thankful for the opportunity to be alone for a minute. Crowds aren’t really his thing. The event has been fun, though—they’ve taken the obligatory photo with the governor, eaten some good food, and somehow managed to all get separated.

But he’s only been seated for about 10 minutes when Danny strolls up and takes a seat next to him.

“You having fun?” Steve asks.

“Definitely,” he says, nodding slowly. “For starters, I had a very interesting conversation with this woman who was making leis.”

Fuck.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve says mildly, as if Danny were talking about the weather.

“Mhmm. I told her that my friend gave me this lei, and I asked her what it meant.”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

“What did she say?”

“Do you know what she told me, Steven?” Danny says, talking over him. “She told me that this is a maile lei. I’m probably saying that wrong—”

“Pretty close, actually,” he interrupts, but Danny just glares at him.

“I learned that a maile lei is a very fancy type of lei that symbolizes love and courtship. This woman, who looked old enough to be my grandmother, by the way, told me this very charming story about how when she was young, all the girls would put these leis on the doorsteps of the men that they wanted to marry. These pretty little red flowers are carnations, which _also_ happen to symbolize love. And—and! This bow, conveniently located on my _left_ shoulder, means that I am _married_!”

“Well, it doesn’t actually mean married, technically,” Steve says, locking in on the most innocuous part of what Danny said. “It means _spoken for_.” 

“That’s—that’s not any better!” Danny yells. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No!” he says, because— _god_. “No, of course it’s not a joke.”

“Then were you ever going to tell me what this lei meant?”

“Probably not,” he says honestly. Danny doesn’t say anything, but Steve recognizes that particular combination of gestures—raised eyebrows, arms outstretched, lower lip between his teeth—as his _what the fuck_ expression. “Look, I—I guess I figured that if you were curious, then you would ask somebody what it meant and then you would know how I feel. And if you weren’t—well, then you just wouldn’t find out.”

“I…god, I truly have no words. Did you just ask me out with a _lei_? I mean, I know words are hard for you, but man—.” Without another look at Steve, he just shakes his head, stands up, and stalks away.

Steve exhales loudly and slouches down on the bench, resting his head on the hard back and covering his face with his hands. That went a lot worse than he had been expecting. Truly, he didn’t think Danny would ever find out what the lei meant, he couldn’t imagine him being curious enough to ask. Shit. Steve lets the noises of the party wash over him as he tries not to think, about anything at all. 

Sometime later—two minutes, 15 minutes, who knows—Steve is just summoning the courage to stand up when he hears someone sit down next to him.

“Stop being melodramatic.” It’s Danny’s voice, of course—probably back to yell at him some more. “Open your eyes.”

Steve does, reluctantly, and takes in Danny next to him, still looking resplendent in his lei and holding out another one in his hand. Steve’s heart rate speeds up, but he tries to tamp it back down. “What’s that?”

“I went back to my new friend and asked her what kind of lei I should get if I wanted to say _yes_ to a question, no matter how misguided that question was in its execution.”

“White ginger,” Steve says, reaching out to run the back of his fingers against the large blooms. “Luck and longevity.”

“You got it,” Danny says as he lifts the lei. “Come here, you tall freak of nature.”

Steve braces his hands on Danny’s thighs and obediently ducks his head. Danny places the lei around his neck, but instead of going for the cheek, Danny kisses him square on the mouth. Steve inhales sharply, surprised, but presses into it eagerly and slips one hand under the leis to curl around Danny’s neck. He slides the other up from Danny’s thigh to his hip and grips hard, trying to ground himself against the flood of emotion. He breathes deep through his nose, taking in Danny’s familiar scent mixed with the fragrant white ginger and carnations and ‘ilimia, and he really never wants to smell anything else, ever.

“You could’ve just used your words, you goof,” he says fondly, but Steve shakes his head.

“Nope, words are your thing.”

“So you’re just going to convey emotions through leis? I feel like that’s going to get expensive.”

“No, I only express emotions once a year, on Lei Day. And then I get lei’d.”

Danny groans, but Steve conveniently silences him with his mouth.


	17. Day 17 - On Vacation

Fuck.

Just fuck, fuck, fuck.

Danny is hard. And not like regular, run-of-the-mill, everyday hard. No.

Danny just _knew_ Steve would eventually kill him. Sure, he always thought it would be because of a bullet or an explosion or a dramatic, fiery car accident. But apparently it’s going to be through sex, or more accurately (and far less fun), the _lack_ of sex. He’s seen the commercials—seek medical attention if your erection lasts more than four hours. It seems like he’s had an erection off-and-on for four fucking _years_ , and it’s been mostly _on_ for the past four weeks.

But Danny is nothing if not a _professional_ , goddamn it, and now he has a fucking erection that he’s trying to hide from what seems like all of HPD. And that is a hard feat— _fuck_ , this is no time for puns—because for all that he lacks in height, he’s not exactly small, you know, where it matters. He’s currently hiding behind the driver’s side door of the Camaro and praying anyone doesn’t come too close.

Danny is going fucking crazy. There’s too much blood in his dick, which doesn’t leave enough for his brain. Which is probably the only explanation for why he does what he does.

“Steve!” he yells, waving to get his attention and beckoning him closer. It seems that his own part in all of this is over, now that one of the drug dealers is bleeding and the other three are cuffed. Steve is still handling the scene, wrangling HPD and DEA and whoever else decided to show up, but he’s basically free to hide his inappropriate erection in his car. He can’t believe that he’s about to have this conversation where literally dozens of people could overhear him. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

“What is it, Danno?” Steve asks as he strides over. Damn, that whole image—vest and holsters, plus a little trickle of blood on his temple—is really working for Danny. Then again, pretty much _anything_ would work for him right now.

“I am _done_ , Steven,” he says, but he winces and immediately regrets his words when he sees Steve’s aneurysm face come out. He’s got to be more careful—god, the poor guy probably thinks that Danny means done with _them_. Quite the opposite, actually. “No, no, no, I’m sorry. That sounded bad.”

“What?” Steve says, still wary.

“I meant that I am done with this waiting thing. We’ve got to do something, or I’m going to go insane.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mary came to visit, Grace got sick, _I_ got sick, then there was this case…it’s been four weeks, Steve!”

Four weeks since they _finally_ kissed for the first time, and the closest they’ve gotten to anything besides some teenage-level making out has been half a hand job in the supply closet last week, which was aborted when Kono politely knocked on the door and told them that their suspect was finally ready to talk.

_Four weeks_. Plus about four years of pent-up pining—Danny hasn’t felt this hard-up since he was sixteen.

“Did you just pull me over here to talk about sex?”

Danny sniffs and runs a hand over his hair. “Yes, yes, I did, actually.”

“Aw, you a little horny there, Danno?” Steve says, grinning openly now. He leans forward a little and peers over the car door that’s in between them. “Is that why you’re hiding over here?”

“A _little_?” he yells, arms flailing. “Soon, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions, and there are unsuspecting members of the public around.”

“So what do you have in mind?”

“I have no idea! We need to—to go away, or something, and hide from everyone. Or bribe all the criminals to stand down for a weekend, I don’t care.”

“Hmm.” Steve’s mouth twists, and he folds his arms across his chest. “How about a vacation? Just you and me, this weekend.”

Danny exhales in relief and leans more of his weight onto the car door. “That would be perfect.”

“Good. I’ll even plan it. Casual clothes only—don’t you dare pack a tie. I’ll pick you up on Saturday.”

* * *

Danny’s waiting outside on Saturday morning when Steve comes by to pick him up, and he leans forward to give him a kiss through the open driver’s side window. But then he catches a glimpse of the truck bed—more specifically, what’s  _in_ the truck bed—and he groans, resting his forehead against the frame of the truck.

“Oh my god, we’re going camping, aren’t we,” he says, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

“I know this great spot, it’ll be perfect. Very private,” Steve says. He gestures for Danny to get in the truck.

Danny does, reluctantly. “I was thinking more along the lines of a big, comfy bed somewhere.”

“But I brought a sleeping bag for two,” Steve says, jerking his thumb toward the big bundle in the backseat, and well—Danny just cannot resist that earnest, eager face.

“Okay, babe,” he says with a nod and a sigh. “Let’s go camping.”

Steve smiles, that big goofy one that reaches his eyes, and Danny can’t help but smile back. He is learning the value of compromise, and even though _he_ doesn’t like camping, he knows that it’ll make Steve happy, and that’s worth everything.

Danny enjoys the scenic drive and the Hawaiian sun, for once—but that’s mostly because Steve looks so good in his sunglasses. They eventually reach the park and the small gravel lot by the trailhead. _It’s only a mile, Danny_ , Steve says, but he’s pretty sure that the hike feels more like two, especially with all the shit they’re carrying. Finally they arrive at the spot, and even Danny has to admit that it’s nice, all lush and green with a big flat area and tall trees all around.

Steve insists on unpacking everything first, much to Danny’s chagrin, so he hauls ass. The very second that their tent looks like it’s stable enough survive a stiff breeze, Danny manhandles Steve inside and pushes him down onto the sleeping bag. He strips his own shirt off, tossing it in the corner before straddling Steve.

“You’re kinda eager,” he says mildly, but Danny doesn’t miss how quickly he sheds his shirt and pulls Danny back down on top of him.

Danny snorts and starts to say something, but Steve cuts him off with a searing kiss. All of the words fly out of his head, and it’s all he can do to cradle Steve’s jaw in his hand and try to keep up with the onslaught. His tongue is slick and hot and insistent, and Danny yields to it happily, bracing his weight on one elbow and using his other hand to memorize the planes of Steve’s shoulders and his chest.

“You can’t tell me that you haven’t been waiting for this, too,” Danny finally says, when Steve breaks away from his mouth and starts nibbling down his neck.

“Are you kidding?” he says, and Danny really has to force himself to concentrate on the words that he’s saying when his tongue is attacking his pulse point like that. “I haven’t jacked off so much since I was a teenager.”

Danny groans, low and long, and pulls Steve’s face back up toward him. He slides off Steve and pulls him onto his side, tangling their legs together and pushing their hips flush. He moans, right into Steve’s mouth, when he shoves his hips towards Danny’s, and he can feel the hot, hard line of his cock.

Steve works an arm between them and after some fumbling, manages to shove their shorts and their boxers down just enough. He circles both of their cocks in his big hand, with pre-come and sweat doing a decent enough job of minimizing the friction, and Danny has to break away so that he can pant against Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s mouth is sneaky and on the move, roaming from his cheek to his ear to his jaw, but Danny can’t do _anything_ but look down. He can’t see much of anything, though, because it’s pretty dark inside the tent, and they’re mostly still in their boxers.

He pushes into the rough strength of Steve’s hand, calloused and wonderful as it is, and frantically turns his head, nudging his nose against Steve’s face until their mouths are aligned again in an eager, sloppy kiss. Steve twists his hand, squeezing a little harder, and when Danny moans, he can feel Steve smile against his mouth. Fuck, this isn’t going to last nearly as long as he wants to.

Danny thankfully remembers at the last minute that they’re really, truly alone, and so he doesn’t try to muffle his hoarse shout when he comes, spilling wetly over Steve’s hand. He continues to thrust against him, weakly, and winces when Steve promptly bites him on the shoulder as he shudders and adds to the slickness between them.

The heat between them is overwhelming, so Danny rolls onto his back and exhales loudly. “Now you see, Steven, wouldn’t it be nice if we were in civilization, so we could take advantage of the magic that is running water and take a shower?”

“Mmm,” Steve grunts illegibly as he flops onto Danny’s chest, resting his face against his shoulder. “There’s a little creek nearby. Let’s take a nap first, it’ll be fine.”

Danny’s pretty sure that he’s going to disagree when he wakes up and finds his belly hair crusted with jizz, but he closes his eyes anyway. 


	18. Day 18 - Eating

“Grace!” Steve calls out. He leans out the open window and waves, trying to catch her attention.

She looks around and then spots him, waving back. She trots over, her backpack bouncing wildly, and struggles to get up into the truck. “Hey, Uncle Steve. I didn’t know you were picking me up—is Danno okay?”

“He’s fine,” Steve says, watching to make sure Grace fastens her seat belt before he ventures back into the insanity of the carpool lane. “He just got caught in some bad traffic on the other side of the island, and I was close by.”

“Oh, okay. Are we going back to the office?”

“Yup, Danno should be back by the time we get there. How was your day?”

“ _So_ cool,” she says excitedly. “Jason’s mom is a chef, and she came and taught us all about cooking.”

“Yeah? That does sound pretty cool. What did you learn?”

“She made this tuna thing that was pretty cool, and she told us all about how important cooking is, and how it’s such a nice thing to do for your friends and family to show that you love them,” Grace says, all of the words falling out of her in a breathless rush. “Do you cook, Uncle Steve?”

“Uh, not really,” he says honestly. “I mean, I cook steaks and I know how to make a couple of things, but that’s about it.”

“I want to learn,” she says with a nod.  

“You should, it’s a great skill to have.”

* * *

Saturday morning rolls around, and by 9 am, Steve is standing in his kitchen, bored. He’s already gone for a swim and eaten breakfast and cleaned the house, and since he has no plans with Danny today, he has no idea what he’s going to do with his time.

His gaze swings over to the stove, and he stares at it for a minute, tilting his head. Maybe he _should_ learn to cook. Lord knows he needs a hobby—the yard is as pristine as it can get, and if he tinkers uselessly with the Marquis one more time, he’s going to scream. 

He nods firmly—decision made—and swipes his keys off the counter. To the grocery store.

* * *

Steve stumbles back into the kitchen, arms laden with grocery bags, and starts to put away his loot. He tends to treat grocery shopping like a military operation, or at least a necessary evil. But today he let himself linger over the produce, wander through the aisles, and pick up anything that looked good—he didn’t even bring a list. And therefore his cabinets and fridge now hold a veritable cornucopia of foods, all of which Steve has no idea how to cook.

He stares into the fridge for a minute and decides that he wants an omelet for lunch. He’s always been impressed by how pretty they look, and how hard can it be, really? He has to watch a couple of YouTube videos to figure out the best way to dice the onion, but once he gets a handle of the logistics, his overall knife skills turn out to be pretty applicable. His first two attempts at an actual omelet more resemble a plate of scrambled mush—the damn instructions on the Internet make it seem so easy—but eventually he gets the hang of it, and the resulting omelet, as rustic as it looks, actually tastes pretty damn good. A little more practice, and he’ll have this one down pat.

* * *

Steve hears the rumble of the Camaro in his driveway just as the oven timer goes off—perfect timing. He’s glad that Danny has started stopping by to pick him up on the way to work because he really needs to test his omelets on someone else.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, just a sec!” he yells back. He finishes the plate, picks up the mug of coffee, and goes to find Danny, who’s taken a seat on the couch. He holds the food out to him and has to hide a smile at the absolutely bewildered look on his face.

“What in the world is this?” Danny asks, gazing up at Steve as if he’s actually gone crazy this time.

“That is an omelet, with goat cheese and mushrooms and sausage. And roasted red potatoes with rosemary.”

Danny finally takes the plate from Steve and sets it in his lap. “Huh. Since when do you make omelets?”

“Cooking is my new hobby.”

“Since when?” Danny repeats.

“Since a few days ago.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he says with a shrug. “It seemed fun, and it _is_ fun. Is the third degree over? Are you complaining about the omelet? Do you only eat burned eggs or something?”

“Well, I don’t know, I haven’t tasted it yet.” Danny uses the edge of his fork to slice off a small bite, but then he pauses before lifting it to his mouth. “Where’s yours? It’s rude to eat before everyone has their food.”

“Oh, I ate earlier.”

“So you’re just going to stand there and watch me eat? That’s great.”

“I can sit if it makes you more comfortable,” Steve says, plopping down onto the couch and stealing a sip of Danny’s coffee.

“Wow,” he says, mumbling through his mouthful of food. “That is good, like _really_ good.”

Steve nods, satisfied, and lets himself relax into the couch.

“It’s really annoying that you’re good at everything you do,” Danny continues. “But as long as I get to be the beneficiary, I don’t really care.”

Steve lets the compliment wash over him and watches Danny eat the rest of his breakfast. He is just as expressive when he’s eating as when he’s talking, and for some reason, seeing such obviously enjoyment on his face makes Steve feel warm inside.

“So is this going to be a regular thing?” Danny says as he leans forward to place his empty plate on the coffee table. “Because that was delicious, thank you.”

“I dunno, maybe if you behave.”

* * *

Danny walks into Steve’s house the next day a little earlier than usual, sniffing appreciatively. “Oh my god, what is that? That smells amazing.”

“That is banana bread,” Steve says, looking up from where he’s reading the newspaper at the table. “But it’s not ready quite yet because you’re early.”

“Ooh, I love banana bread,” Danny says. He moves around Steve’s kitchen easily, prepping cups of coffee for each of them before taking a seat across from him. “I would have thought that banana bread would be too unhealthy for you.”

“I used wheat flour,” he says with a shrug. “There’s oats in there, too.”

Danny wrinkles his nose. “Okay, I’m going to trust you and withhold judgment, but only because that omelet was so good.”

“I think you’re physically incapable of withholding judgment,” Steve says dryly, and Danny’s indignant snort is cut off by the beep of the oven timer. “Be nice or you don’t get any.”

Danny mimes zipping his mouth shut, and Steve can feel his eyes on him as he takes the bread out of the oven and inverts it onto a cooling rack. He takes out his brand new bread knife, cuts a small piece off the end for himself, and is about to cut Danny’s piece when he suddenly materializes beside him. “A little bigger, please,” he says. Steve rolls his eyes but obeys and cuts him a bigger piece, then slides both slices onto small dessert plates that he’d unearthed from the depths of the kitchen cupboards earlier this morning.

“Don’t burn your mouth,” he says as he puts the plate in front of Danny.

Danny completely ignores him and picks off a large chunk to pop in his mouth. “Shit, this is really good,” he says.

Steve would like to make fun of him for talking with his mouth full, but truthfully, he doesn’t want to do anything to discourage the compliments. “Thank you, I’m glad you like it.”

* * *

Considering that Steve likes to throw himself head-first into pretty much everything, he’s glad that work is quiet this week because it means he has more time to cook. Sure, he has a moderately-deep knife cut on his pinky and an oven burn on his forearm, but overall he’s having a lot of fun. And he gets to see Danny, who seems to have an uncanny ability to discern when Steve’s going to be cooking and starts showing up more and more. Presumably so he can “help cook,” in his words, but in Steve’s opinion, he does a lot more talking than helping. At least he always volunteers to do the dishes.

Steve makes chili on Wednesday, roast chicken with mashed potatoes on Thursday, and when Danny walks into his house Friday morning, he’s grilling French toast—made with egg whites, of course, and light on the maple syrup.

“French toast!” Danny says as he leans forward. “Wow, you’re spoiling me.”

“Only because it’s Friday, don’t get too excited.”

“I’m really hoping that this cooking thing isn’t a fad because I’m getting really used to you making all of my meals.”

“Just eat your breakfast, you moocher,” Steve says, sliding a plate in front of him, but he’s trying to hide a smile.

“This is amazing,” Danny says as he digs in eagerly. Steve joins him, at a more normal pace.

“Hey, do you have Grace this weekend?” he asks, and Danny grins.

“Yeah. Why, do you wanna cook?”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, but Danny just laughs at him.

“That would be great. I have her tonight, actually, Rachel is supposed to drop her off after school.”

“Have her drop her off here instead,” Steve suggests. “I’ll make something.”

* * *

“So,” Danny says, clapping his hands. “What are we making?”

“We?” Steve asks. He pauses from digging through the fridge to give him the side-eye. “I tend to do the making, while you do the beer drinking.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he concedes. “Then what do I get to watch you make?”

“Eggplant parm and apple crisp for dessert.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Yeah, I can get on board with that. Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?”

“Actually, you can wash those apples over there.”

Steve slowly lets himself relax as he moves around the kitchen, washing and chopping and mixing. A delicious combination of sweet and savory smells fills the kitchen, and Danny’s comforting voice and laugh waft through it all.

Eventually dinner is almost ready, just in time when Grace rings the doorbell. “Uncle Steve!” she calls out, reaching her arms up.

He crouches down obediently and wraps her up in a hug. “Hey, Grace Face.”

“Wow, it smells so good in here! Did you cook?”

“I sure did.”

“It’s his new hobby, monkey,” Danny says, with his hand on her head. “So no matter how his food tastes, we’re going to say that we like it because we want to encourage this innocuous, non-dangerous hobby.”

Grace giggles and looks up at Steve. “I thought you said you didn’t cook.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I was inspired by our conversation.”

“Wait, when did you guys talk about cooking?” Danny asks, looking between them.

“Last week, when he picked me up from school. Jason’s mom, who is a chef, taught us all about cooking and how cool it is.”

“And what exactly did she tell you?” he asks.

“That cooking is a good way to provide for your family and it’s the best way to show someone that you love them.”

The realization hits Steve at the same time as appears to hit Danny, and they stand there staring at each other for a long minute. Unable to deal with this flood of emotions right now, he turns around and swipes a hand over his face.

“How about you go wash up, Gracie?” he says. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

He heads into the kitchen and is not naïve enough to think that Danny won’t follow him.

“Is that what this means?” he says, circling his hand to encompass the kitchen and getting straight to the point, as usual. “Is this you trying to say that you love me?”

“I have no idea,” Steve admits, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe? That wasn’t my original intention. But I really do like cooking, especially for you.”

Danny nods slowly, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “Just don’t—don’t hit me, okay?” he says, quietly, as he steps closer.

Steve’s response catches in his throat and instead he dips his head down, gently pressing his lips to Danny’s. Danny’s breath stutters, making Steve groan, and his hands come up to hold onto his hips. Steve tilts his head to deepen the kiss and pushes him against the counter as he works a hand into his hair.

They spring apart in surprise when the oven timer beeps, and Steve smiles at the look of Danny’s red lips and his messy hair. “Dinner’s ready.”


	19. Day 19 - Listening to Music

“Okay, I will admit, this is slightly less shitty that I thought it would be,” Danny says as he takes a swig of his beer. He and Steve are in a dark, crowded bar, wedged against a wall while listening to one of Chin and Kono’s various cousins play in his band.

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” Steve says. “I don’t think we really had a choice, though.”

Danny nods, with a snort. Kono had definitely used her no-nonsense voice when she asked— _told_ them they had to come, actually. “I mean, they’re no Bon Jovi, but at least my ears aren’t bleeding.

“Hey,” Steve says. His hand is hot where it rests against Danny’s shoulder, and Danny looks down, stares at it for a second. “You want another beer?”

“Holy fuck, are you actually willing to buy me alcohol? Is something wrong with you, did you hit your head? Or are you already really drunk somehow?”

“Well, the offer is about to expire, so…”

“Okay, okay,” Danny says quickly. “Yes, please, thank you.”

He follows Steve with his eyes for as long as he can but after he loses him in the thick crowd, Danny returns his attention to the band. It’s not really the type of music he usually listens to, but he’s actually enjoying it—the female lead singer has a nice, husky voice, and the beat is dark and sexy. 

Suddenly something icy cold presses against the nape of his neck, and Danny jumps. He turns to see Steve holding out a beer bottle and grinning like a loon, his teeth gleaming in the low light of the bar.

“Jerk,” he mutters, but he takes the bottle.

“Sorry,” Steve says, not sounding apologetic in the least. He swipes his palm across Danny’s neck to remove the dampness, and Danny blames his shiver on the chill.

“So which one is their cousin—and is it Keoni or Keoki?”

“It’s Kaiko, I think,” Steve says. “He’s the drummer.”

He’s standing right behind Danny and a little to the side, so in order for Danny to hear him, he pretty much hooks his chin over Danny’s shoulder and speaks right into his ear. “You’re looming,” Danny says finally, curious as to how Steve will react.

“S’crowded in here,” he says with a shrug, but if anything he presses a hair closer. Danny nods slowly and takes a long drag of his beer. It _is_ crowded, but not so much so that such intimacy is necessary. If Danny were to so much as take a deep breath, he would be able to feel every inch of Steve pressed up against his back. 

They listen in silence for a couple songs, and then the crowd jostles as a small group of people move back from the stage toward the back of the bar. Steve clutches Danny’s hip in his big hand and pulls him back, making room for the people to pass in front of them. He keeps his hold on Danny’s hip for several long moments, long past having any reasonable explanation for doing so, and even when he lets go, he doesn’t step back from where they’re completely pressed together now. Danny drains the rest of his beer and stares down at where Steve’s hand had grabbed him.

Huh. As far as Danny’s concerned, they’re not really the type of friends who practically hump each other in bars.

Not that he’s _complaining_ , you know. He’d be more than happy to mash various areas of his body against Steve’s all day long.

But still. He wasn’t aware that this was a thing that they did.

“More beer,” Steve says suddenly, right into Danny’s ear, and it makes him jump. “Be right back.”

The heat on Danny’s back disappears, and he tries to take a deep breath, forcing his heart rate to slow. He has no idea what this is, but it’s making his heart thump and his palms sweat. The dark, pulsing beat of the music really isn’t helping.

He can feel Steve before he hears him, and he slots in right behind Danny, maybe even closer than they were before. Danny can practically feel Steve’s muscles through the two layers of clothes between them. He wishes that Steve were shorter—or that he were taller, really—so that his ass better fit against Steve’s hips. Steve’s arm curls around his waist, and oh yeah, Danny forgot about the beer. He takes the offered bottle and mumbles a thank you.

They’re standing so close together that a small gap in the crowd has formed in front of them, and people are taking advantage of it as their route through. A young blonde woman edges past and flashes a quick grin at Danny, her eyes flicking up and down. Danny smiles back at her, but suddenly she drops her gaze and scurries away faster. Danny sighs.

“Did you just glare at that young lady?” he says, twisting his head. All he can really see is Steve’s neck which is…really nice, actually.

“No,” he says, completely unconvincingly. He’s a really shitty liar when you know what to look for, and Danny definitely does.

“Is there a reason that you’re standing so close to me, probably wearing your aneurysm face right now?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but the arm around his waist reappears and Danny smiles. Typical Neanderthal, no words.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asks, pressing back just a hair and grinning at Steve’s sharp inhale.

“Nah,” he drawls. “Let’s stay a little longer.”

He tightens his grip and Danny groans inwardly. He manages to make it through about three more songs before he can’t take it anymore. As a general life guideline, he doesn’t get erections in public, and he’s coming perilously close to breaking his own rule. He twists in Steve’s grip, bracing his hands on his chest.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving. Right now.”

“Shouldn’t we find Chin and Kono to say goodbye?” he says innocently, and Danny wants to _smack_ him.

“I swear, you better get your ass out that door right now…,” he hisses.

Steve grins, wide and lazy, with the confident air of a man who knows he’s going to get laid. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll be going home alone, that’s what,” Danny snaps, and that seems to spur Steve into action. He puts his _determined_ face on and grabs Danny’s hand, pushing his way through the thick crowd. The sudden burst of cool air when they stumble outside is a welcome comfort against his overheated skin, but he only has time to take one quick breath before Steve is shoving at him, pressing him against the brick wall of the club around the corner.

Danny doesn’t even have a chance to complain about the manhandling because Steve is on him instantly, angling his face up for a hard kiss. Danny groans into it, instantly hating himself for feeding the ego because he can feel Steve grinning against his mouth. He can’t really help it, though, because after about an hour of foreplay, he finally has something to _do_. He tries to regain some dignity by taking control of the kiss and pushing his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve concedes immediately, slouching a little so their heads are more level, and Danny keens at the thought. Steve yanks at Danny’s shirt to untuck it, and he skims his hands up his back. Somehow, his hands still feel hot against Danny’s skin, and he retaliates, twisting one hand in the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt and slipping the other one underneath to rub against his torso.

The kiss is hot and sloppy, with Steve biting at his lips, but Danny still can’t get enough, he wants to crawl _inside_ him. He can still hear the music faintly, and he lets the dark beat guide him as he nudges his hips against Steve’s. Steve whimpers right into his mouth—and god, Danny is going to be replaying that noise in his head _forever_ —and shoves him harder against the wall. Danny wrenches his lips away from Steve’s and trails down his jaw to his neck. He mouths the veins there, humming against the stubbled skin, and the vibrations that he can feel when Steve groans induce a full-body shiver.

Steve worms a hand between them to squeeze Danny’s dick through his pants, and that seems to flip a switch in his foggy, lust-addled brain. “Okay, okay,” Danny says as he pulls back, just an inch. He’s gasping for breath, but he’s not even embarrassed because Steve looks worse. He’s far beyond his _no erections in public_ guideline, but he’s pretty sure that _no coming in public_ is a hard line that he needs to obey. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

“Lead the way.”


	20. Day 20 - Watching Sports

“Okay, McGarrett,” Danny announces as he strides into the house. “You better not have plans this afternoon because I am conscripting _you_ , for once.”

“To do what?” he asks, popping his head out of the kitchen. He looks wary, and that pleases Danny to no end.

“I am completing an essential part of your education as a human being. Let’s go,” Danny says, motioning toward the door.

Steve is clearly skeptical as he gives Danny the side-eye, but to his credit, he grabs his keys and moves toward the door anyway. “Where are we going?”

“You told me that you’ve never been to a professional baseball game before, and that’s just a disgrace. So that is what we’re doing.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks as he steps ahead to put his hand on the driver’s side door handle first. Danny sighs loudly and gives him his best glare but heads for the passenger seat. “There’s no baseball in Hawaii.”

“Oh, but there is, my friend. It’s called the Hawaiian Winter Baseball league, it’s where some of the pros come to play in the winter.”

“Huh. Where do they play?”

“UH. Take us there, Jeeves,” Danny says as he lounges in his seat and waves his hand.

* * *

“So who’s playing?” Steve asks.

“We get to see the Waikiki BeachBoys play the North Shore Honu,” Danny says, handing Steve his ticket before they walk through the gates. Steve shoots him a look, and Danny winces. “I know, I know, don’t even get me started on the names.”

Steve buys beer and peanuts, at Danny’s insistence, and after they find their seats behind the first base dugout, Danny teaches him the finer points of eating peanuts at a baseball game.

“It just seems messy,” Steve says, looking down at the ground disdainfully.

“It’s tradition,” Danny says through a mouthful, dropping the shell pieces down between his feet. “And please tell me that you actually know the rules of baseball.”

“Eh, I know the basics,” Steve says with a shrug. “Plus, I know I’m rooting for the Honu.”

“Why? Do you just automatically identify with all sea creatures?”

“Because their mascot is dressed as a big stuffed turtle,” he says, pointing. “And that’s hilarious.”

“God, this is a sad excuse for baseball,” Danny says, shaking his head.

* * *

By the middle of the eighth inning, the BeachBoys are ahead 6-4, and Danny is pleasantly full and relaxed after peanuts and two beers.

“What the hell is this?” Steve says, leaning into Danny so he has a better view of the big screen on the scoreboard.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Danny asks, turning toward Steve and gesticulating wildly. “Have you never been to any sporting event, _ever_? That is a kiss cam, designed to catch innocent couples and make them kiss in public.”

“Then why is it on us?”

Danny’s rant dies in his throat, and he slowly turns back toward the screen. Sure enough, there are the two of them. Danny blinks, and it’s eerie to see the big screen version of himself blink half a second later. The crowd is roaring, and he has absolutely no idea what to do. It’s, like, a breach of sports etiquette to ignore the kiss cam, but it’d also be really fucking awkward to kiss his boss. In _public_. He could go for a kiss on the cheek, but the crowd would probably boo.

Danny doesn’t have much time to think about it, though, because all of a sudden Steve’s lips are on his, kissing him firmly, and the noise from the crowd swells even louder. It only lasts for a few seconds before Steve pulls back and the camera moves on to the next pair of unsuspecting schmucks.

Dazed, Danny licks his lips as he settles back into his seat. Unsurprisingly, Steve tastes like peanuts and beer. But the big fucking surprise is that Danny would really like to explore that taste some more.

What the fuck?

He’s not _blind_ , okay, he knows that Steve is attractive—he certainly sees the truly stunning number of second glances that Steve warrants, from men and women alike. But he doesn’t…he doesn’t _appreciate_ it, does he?

The rest of the game passes in a blur since he’s lost in thought, trying to decide if he liked the kiss because he actually likes _Steve_ or just because he hasn’t had _any_ action in…uh, quite a while. Danny startles when Steve stands up next to him, but then he realizes that the crowd is cheering and the game is over.

They don’t really talk on the drive back to Steve’s, except for a couple of innocuous comments about the weather, of all things. Jeez, who would have thought that he and Steve would be reduced to talking about the _weather_.

He follows Steve inside blindly, still thinking about how he can cross off “kiss a guy” on his bucket list, not that he even really knew it was on there to begin with. He’s tired of this awkwardness, so he turns around and opens his mouth, which apparently Steve takes as some sort of _invitation_ because he steps right up and kisses him again.

Danny’s mouth is conveniently still open and Steve slides his tongue in, giving Danny more of that taste that he wanted earlier. He kisses him back on instinct, trying to get used to the feeling of tilting his head so far up and investigating the intriguing scrape of Steve’s stubble against his. He eventually pulls back, though a little too much time has passed for any kind of plausible deniability.

“What the fuck!” he says. He grimaces at the hoarse note of his own voice. “I could have been pissed at you—that was a risky move. God, like I should be surprised, this is _you_ that we’re talking about, after all.”

“I knew you weren’t, though,” Steve says. He’s moved back about an inch, but it’s nowhere near far enough for Danny to relax. “Pissed at me, I mean.”

“How?”

“You didn’t yell,” he says with a shrug. “If you were mad about what I did, I would have never heard the end of it. But you didn’t say a word.”

Danny opens his mouth but eventually closes it again when nothing comes out. He’s not sure whether he should be bummed that he’s so transparent or impressed that Steve can read him so well.

“And once again,” Steve continues, “you’re not really saying anything. So if you don’t mind, I’m just going to kiss you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hawaiian Winter Baseball league is real (and those are the real team names!) but it stopped in 2008.


	21. Day 21 - On the Couch

Danny sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Please remind me again why I allowed you to drag me out of my apartment at the ass crack of the dawn—on a _Saturday_ , no less—to come to the office and look at _cold cases_?”

“Because you love cold cases. And me,” he says, lifting his head from the file and grinning at Danny.

Danny snorts and slumps further down into the couch, but he doesn’t say anything. Steve stoops down to grab the paper coffee cup by his feet and takes a long drink to hide his smile. Those reasons, while true, aren’t the full story. Steve had been facing an endless day off without any plans, so he hijacked Danny under the guise of going through cold cases at the office.

Steve would feel bad about commandeering Danny’s day off, but he knows that A, he didn’t have any other plans, and B, he really doesn’t mind. Sure, he’s been bitching and moaning ever since Steve woke him up by pounding on his apartment door, but if he really didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be. Danny really does love cold cases, and as an extra incentive, Steve plied him with a strong cup of Kona, malasadas, _and_ coco puffs.

Coco puffs which are rapidly turning to crumbs that Steve’s going to be finding for weeks in his office couch. “Seriously, Danno?” he grumbles as he tries to brush the worst of the crumbs onto the floor. “You’re an animal.”

“Me? I am a perfect gentleman. You’re the one who turns into some kind of beast when he eats,” he says, pointing at himself and then at Steve. Steve rolls his eyes and stuffs an entire malasada into his mouth. “See, my point exactly.”

“No crumbs,” he mumbles, around the malasada, and Danny can’t hide his laugh.

“Go back to reading your half, you big jerk. Anything interesting?”

“Mmm, maybe,” he says, tossing one file into the _follow-up later_ pile. “One of the suspect descriptions matched that guy we booked last week, maybe we can talk to him and find some of his friends. How about you?”

“It is impossible to use my brilliant detective mind while I’m so uncomfortable,” Danny says, scowling as he squirms.

“Oh, is there a pea under your cushion, princess?”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know that reference,” Danny says as he gives him the side-eye. “And don’t you give me that look, of course I know my fairy tales, I have a daughter. Anyway, this couch sucks.”

“This is a great couch,” Steve protests.

“It is a black leather couch, Steven. It’s very nice at looking all manly and powerful, I will give you that, but it is fucking uncomfortable.”

“You are free to sit on the floor,” he says dryly, but Danny scoffs.

He continues to wriggle, lying down and ducking his head under Steve’s arm until he’s stretched out fully on the couch with his head on Steve’s thigh and his feet propped up on the far arm of the couch.

“Ah, that’s better,” he says, and Steve just blinks.

Well.

He’d be the first one to admit that they sometimes push the physical boundaries of a typical male friendship, but they’ve never done _this_ before.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, finally.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Danny says, gazing up at him for a second before returning his attention to the file in his hands and then shaking it. “I’m _detecting_.”

Steve nods slowly—he can’t help but think that Danny is referring to more than just the cold cases. He tries to concentrate on the files in his hands, but it’s really difficult to think when Danny is all spread out like he is, with his head warm on Steve’s thigh. He’s dressed casually for once, in gray shorts and a tight blue t-shirt, and Steve can barely take his eyes off of him.

“You know what we should do after this?” Danny says. He sounds like he’s trying a little too hard to keep his voice steady, and Steve looks down to see that he’s staring very intently at the file in his hand.

“What?” he asks. He wants to just say yes automatically, to anything, _ever_ , but that would probably sound a little too eager.

“You should take me out to dinner.”

Steve doesn’t even try to hide his glee. “I should, huh?”

“Yeah, it would probably be in your best interest.”

“I think I can do that.”

“Good. Can you hand me another malasada?”


	22. Day 22 - Watching TV

There’s a knock at the door, and Steve turns his head from his spot at the couch to glare at it. The Army-Navy game is about to start, and the only person he’s expecting is Danny, who doesn’t usually knock. With a sigh, he levers himself up and opens the door.

Steve looks down at Danny in shock—he’s wearing _shorts_ , which on any other day would be worth a second glance, but today, all of his focus is on Danny’s shirt, which is gray and stretches very nicely across his chest and shoulders and biceps, and oh yeah, has “NAVY” emblazoned across the front in blue. He vows to never tell anyone, _ever_ , about how much he’s reduced to a pile of goo by Danny Williams in Navy gear. Apparently he’s found his weak spot.

“Uh, hi,” he says dumbly. God, he’s gotta get his shit together, this is embarrassing. “What’s with the, uh, the Navy shirt?”

“Well, since you’re in the Army and all, I figured I should support Navy,” he says, with the barest hint of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Steve exhales on a laugh and ushers Danny in. “Come in. You want a beer?”

“It’s not even ten in the morning, Steven.”

“It’s a special occasion! And it’s almost kickoff, so hurry.”

“Okay, okay,” Danny says, striding into the kitchen and coming back with a beer. “Keep your pants on.”

Steve pauses to watch the kickoff and then settles on the couch next to Danny, close enough that their knees knock. “Like your shirt, by the way.”

“Well, compared to you, I’m a little underdressed. You look like a walking poster for the Navy,” Danny says, gesturing up and down at him. “SEAL sweatshirt, USNA sweatpants, Navy beanie. Why the hell are you wearing a beanie, anyway?”

“It’s cold outside, Danno.”

Danny scoffs. “It’s like 50 degrees, which is warm for December in any normal part of the world.”

“Most people don’t complain about warm winter weather.”

“Yeah, well I’m not most people,” Danny says, and Steve has to agree. “So if Navy is the Midshipmen, then what are the Army guys?”

“The Black Knights, those fuckers.”

“Whoa, whoa, what’s with all the hate? You do know that you guys are all on the same _overall_ team, right?”

“Not today,” Steve says with a snort. “We’ve won 13 in a row, and it better go to 14.”

“Okay. Go Navy, then.”

“Beat Army,” he replies automatically.

* * *

Navy is down by three points at halftime, and Steve is nearly inconsolable. But telling Danny some stories about the Army-Navy games he’s been to makes him feel better, as does the 50-yard touchdown in the third quarter that puts Navy ahead. He gets a little too excited in his celebration and ends up spilling Danny’s beer all over his shirt.

“Oh, shit,” Steve breathes. Not the Navy shirt.

“Aw, it’s okay,” Danny says, holding the shirt away from his skin. “It’s just beer, it’ll come out. And at least it didn’t get on the couch.”

“Give it to me, I’ll throw it in the wash,” he says, holding out his hand. He’ll do anything to avoid ruining Danny’s only Navy gear. Afterward he comes back into the living room and takes a deep breath—he _cannot_ sit next to a shirtless Danny for a whole hour, he’s not that strong. So he pulls off his SEAL sweatshirt and hands it to him. “Come on, put this on.”

Danny takes it and laughs. “Of course you have another Navy shirt on underneath.”

“Course,” he says with a shrug as Danny tugs the sweatshirt over his head.

“This is huge, I feel ridiculous,” Danny complains, looking down at himself.

“Nope, not ridiculous,” Steve says, struggling to swallow. Okay he was lying before—the only thing better than Danny in Navy clothes is Danny in _Steve’s_ Navy clothes. Especially a sweatshirt that looks like it’s swallowing him, and one that Steve knows smells like him. Shit.

* * *

Army launches a Hail Mary on the last play of the game, but it falls short and Steve jumps up with a yell, punching the air with his fist. “Fuck, yeah!”

He spins around to see Danny just sitting there— _in his sweatshirt_ —laughing with completely undisguised fondness in his eyes. “You are ridiculous. I have never seen you so excited about anything.”

Steve just grins and collapses back down onto the couch. He’s riding the wave of adrenaline and can’t seem to stop himself from leaning forward, curving a hand around Danny’s neck, and kissing him soundly.

“Whoa,” Danny says, eyes wide, but then he’s laughing some more and leaning into kiss Steve again, so it can’t be all bad. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Steve mumbles through more kisses.

“Are you drunk?”

“A little. Are you?”

“Kinda,” Danny says. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Steve tries to stifle a laugh because that is the most ridiculous thing he’s heard in a long time. “Oh, you’re _really_ not, believe me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve starts to answer, but it’s suddenly hard to talk with Danny’s tongue in his mouth like it is. He’s used to being around Danny and not being able to get a word in edgewise, but he must admit that he definitely prefers this method of silencing. He immediately forgets what he was supposed to be saying and leans into the kiss instead, hauling Danny over into his lap with a strong arm around his waist.

“You better not just be doing this because you’re drunk and you’ve got too much Navy-induced testosterone floating around in your bloodstream.”

“Uh-uh,” Steve says, shaking his head. _Fuck_ , Danny’s good at sounding coherent even when he’s drunk. “M’not. Wanted to, long time.”

“Good because I’m not that type of guy. Now shut up and get me off.”

Steve groans and leans his forehead against Danny’s shoulder because he really needs a second after that. Danny doesn’t give him one, though, he just keeps his sneaky mouth attached to Steve’s neck and his hot hands on Steve’s biceps. Steve slides his hands onto Danny’s stomach and pulls off _his_ sweatshirt, leaving him looking rumpled and flushed. In between hurried, desperate kisses, Danny tugs at his shirt and manages to yank it off without dislodging them too much. Steve really wishes that they were spread out in a bed and that he was a little less keyed-up so this could last longer, but since he’s sure as hell not moving or waiting, this will have to do.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks, gasping as Danny grinds down onto him, _this’ll be fine_.

Danny sets a pace that’s downright dirty, with his tongue in Steve’s mouth and his hand in his hair, and it’s all Steve can do to hang on, really. He worms a hand in between them and fumbles with Danny’s shorts, finally getting them open and tugged down enough so that Steve can…

“Motherfucker,” he breathes, against Danny’s mouth. “This whole time, you weren’t wearing boxers.”

Danny laughs and Steve groans, biting sharply at his lower lip. That deserves some payback, so Steve licks his hand and strokes him hard and fast, determined to bring him over the edge as fast as he can. Danny pushes into it eagerly and keeps kissing him until he loses his breath and has to pull back.

He always _knew_ that Danny would be loud—and he does not disappoint—so Steve relishes every single moan, groan, and whimper that he can wring out of him. Eventually it gets whittled down to a litany of curses, mixed with mumblings of Steve’s name, and Steve would turn it into a fucking _ringtone_ if he thought he could ever get away with it.

“Come on, Danny,” he says lowly, stretching for Danny’s mouth and sucking on his lower lip again. He plants his free hand firmly on Danny’s ass and uses it to haul him close and keep him there, situated right over his own crotch. “Come on, babe. Let me see you come.”

Danny’s answering whine sounds painful, and with a violent jerk, he pitches forward, braces himself against the back of the couch, and comes in long spurts on Steve’s torso. “Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he chants, his eyes screwed shut. “Shit, that was—yeah.”

Grinning in a maniacal, breathless sort of way, Steve rests his forehead against Danny’s. He tries to ignore the throbbing in his dick, choosing instead to rub his thumb in loose circles on Danny’s inner thigh. Danny finally pulls back, looking as relaxed as Steve’s ever seen him, and slides down onto the floor with a lazy grin. Steve’s synapses are firing a little slowly so it takes him an extra second to realize what’s going on, but when he gets it, he sinks down further in the couch with a little moan. “God, Danny.”

He fucking _winks_ at him as he tugs down his sweatpants, and Steve huffs a laugh, spreading his legs a little wider to make room for Danny’s broad shoulders. “This okay?” he asks as he slowly runs his hands up Steve’s thighs, against the grain, making him shiver.

“ _Fuck_ , Danny, yes, of course it’s okay.”

“Wouldn’t want to take advantage of you or anything.”

Steve groans, though it cuts off into a gasp when Danny leans down and nibbles along the cut of his hip. Danny teases him a lot more than Steve did to him, raining kisses and bites all along his torso until Steve feels like he’s going to explode. “Please,” he grits out, bouncing his leg.

“Are you trying to hurry this along?” Danny asks. His hand curls around Steve’s dick through his boxers, and Steve shoves up against him. “Because there is virtue in being patient, Steven.”

“Oh my god, next time I will be as patient as you want,” Steve says, trying really hard to form complete sentences. “Right now, please _please_ just do anything.”

“I will take you up on that for next time,” he says, but Steve isn’t listening to anything anymore because Danny is finally taking mercy on him and yanking his boxers down.

He takes Steve’s cock firmly in his hand, sucks hard on the head, and Steve can’t stop the little noise that escapes his throat. “Fuck, Danny, god.”

He’s sneaky and enthusiastic and Steve has _got_ to get it together, or this is going to last about 30 seconds. He takes a deep breath and tries for a minute to focus on the less stimulating sensations, like Danny’s soft hair between his fingers. But Danny isn’t slowing his pace at all and resistance is probably futile, so Steve gives up on that quest pretty quickly. Danny moves fast, darting between Steve’s dick and his balls like he can’t decide what he likes best, and he’s somehow pushing buttons that Steve didn’t even know that he had.

He has the itch to move, but Danny’s strong forearm is slung across his hips and has him pretty well pinned. Steve settles for moving his arms instead, pushing his hands through Danny’s hair and stroking down his face and feeling the definition in his shoulders. He can feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine way too soon, so he tightens his grip on Danny’s hair and his bicep. “Shit, Danny, I’m—I’m close.”

Danny pulls off, his hand sliding easily at a quick pace, and he drops his other hand down to tug gently at Steve’s balls. He lifts his head to catch Steve’s gaze, and it’s the hot, loving look in his eye that sends Steve over the edge. It feels like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless and reeling, and he watches himself spill all over Danny’s hand.

The worst of the fogginess finally clears, and he finds himself slumped on the couch, with Danny tucked up against his side. “Hooyah,” he slurs under his breath, with a little giggle, and Danny slaps him on the stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m finishing up my ideas for the remaining week of prompts, so if there are any first-time scenarios that you want to see for our boys, speak now! ♥


	23. Day 23 - Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned back on Day 2, I am changing two of the new prompts to go along with ideas that I already had from the old list. I just couldn't give up on this idea! So instead of "trying to hide their relationship," this is for "dancing."

“Danny, you’re getting too close,” Steve says out of the side of his mouth as he tugs on his arm.

Danny rolls his eyes and wrenches his arm back. This guy, seriously. “I’m a cop, Steven, I know how to tail someone. Besides, he’s obviously in a hurry, he’s not taking the time to be observant.”

Jason Feller is a suspect in a recent rash of drug deals, but since they aren’t sure how he’s involved and don’t want to spook him, they’ve been tailing him for the last hour. Danny slows to a stop, and Steve whirls around to face him. “What’re you doing?”

“He’s going into that building,” Danny says, pointing unnecessarily. “We can wait a few minutes and see if he comes out.”

“ _Or_ we can continue to follow him,” Steve says as continues on down the street. “Come on.”

Danny has a bad feeling about this, but he follows Steve anyway. Sadly, it’s a sequence that he’s far too familiar with.

They follow Feller up the stairs, through a door, and suddenly Danny finds himself standing in what appears to be a dance studio. “Oh, hello!” A woman who looks to be in charge floats over to them, her hands clasped in front of her. “Are you two getting married? We have lots of engaged couples here, brushing up on their skills before that big first dance.”

Danny’s mouth drops open, but before he can even process what’s going on, Steve has an arm slung over his shoulders. “We sure are,” he says, grinning. “And I’m afraid we need some help. Two left feet, this one.”

He uses his other hand to pat Danny’s stomach, and the woman giggles. “You two are adorable. Come in, come in,” she says, ushering them more fully into the studio.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Danny says under his breath.

“ _We_  are keeping an eye on our suspect,” Steve says. Sure enough, Feller is across the room, standing next to an angry-looking blonde woman and apologizing for something, by what it sounds like.

“Yeah, but I do not think that _this_ is necessary.”

“What are your names, dears?” the woman says, turning around to face them.

“I’m John,” Steve says smoothly. “And this is Mike.”

“How lovely. I’m Irene, and I’ll be teaching this introduction to ballroom dance. As you know, today is the first class in our three-week beginner series. We’ll be getting started in just a few minutes.” 

“It’s really creepy that you use your dad’s name as your alias, I’m just saying,” Danny says, once Irene is out of earshot. 

“Shut up,” Steve hisses. “Besides, it’s also my middle name.”

“Are you kidding me right now? Are we actually doing this?”

“We can’t leave now!”

Steve holds his left hand out, and Danny starts to laugh, lifting his hands. ”Oh, if you’re thinking that I’m going to be the girl here, you’ve got another thing coming, babe.”

“But I don’t know how to not lead.”

“And you think I do!” Danny whisper-yells. 

“Okay, if you let me lead, I’ll let you drive for a month,” Steve offers confidently, and Danny scoffs.

“Good try, buddy, but believe it or not, I actually own that car, so I get to decide who drives it.”

“Oh, come on, Danny. I’m taller.”

“What, you think I’ve never danced with a girl taller than me?”

They’re standing there, toe-to-toe with their arms crossed, when Irene comes up to them and lays a hand on Steve’s arm. “Now, John. You shouldn’t assume that you need to lead just because you’re taller.” 

Steve nods, seeming to deflate in front of her eyes, and Danny wants to cheer. He didn’t expect to see Steve get thoroughly defeated by a tiny woman in her sixties, and it’s a nice addition to his day.

“That goes for you, too, mister,” she says, whirling around to face Danny and shake her finger in his face. “You two are going to take turns leading. Relationships are about compromise, that is a very important lesson for you men to learn if you’re going to get married.”

Danny straightens up automatically and nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Next Tuesday afternoon, Steve comes into Danny’s office swinging his keys on his finger. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Uh, where are we going?”

“Dance class,” he says, looking at Danny as if he’s crazy, and Danny laughs.

“Uh, why do we have to go _back_?”

“Because we don’t have Feller yet, and we can follow him afterward.”

Danny glares up at Steve but stands up from his desk.

* * *

By the following Tuesday, they’ve dismantled the drug ring completely. Feller was at the center of it, as they had predicted, and when they arrested him, he couldn’t stop saying that he recognized them from somewhere, but he just couldn’t place it. 

“Time to go, we’ll be late,” Steve says, rapping his knuckles against the frame of Danny’s office door.

“For _dance_? We caught Feller!”

“But Irene will be mad if we don’t show up,” Steve says, frowning, and Danny sighs. 

“Fine. But you’re paying for all of this, so you better bring your wallet.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just expense it.”

* * *

Danny’s tugging at his tie and watching all of the happy couples at Aunt Deb’s wedding when Steve comes up to him and holds out his hand. “Come on.”

“What, to dance?”

“Yeah. We gotta show off our skills.”

“But people are gonna—say stuff,” Danny says, staring at Steve’s still-outstretched hand.

Steve just shrugs and wiggles his fingers. “So what. Come on, I’ll even let you lead.”

“Can’t pass up that opportunity,” he says with a snort. Despite all of Irene’s protests, Steve had always ended up leading more often than not.

He lets Steve tug him up from his seat and lead him over to the small dance floor. The song is slowish, with a nice beat, and it’s simple enough to swing into an easy rhythm. “You are such a goof,” he says, finally, because that’s all that wants to come out right now.

“Why? What am I doing now?”

“I dunno,” he says with a shrug. “It’s just always true.”

“But I’m your goof, right?” Steve says carefully, and when Danny looks at him, he has his gaze firmly fixed on a spot across the room.

Danny releases about four years’ worth of breath in one long exhale. “Yeah,” he says, laughing, because he sure is. This tall, tattooed goof who basically shanghaied him into dance classes. “As fun as this dancing is, how do you feel about heading back to your place?”

“I have some pretty strong feelings about that. I’ll tell you what, you can even drive.”

“You’re actually going to let _me_ drive?”

“Yeah, well, someone told me that relationships are all about compromise.”


	24. Day 24 - Being Obvious

Danny’s in the middle of paperwork—how do you explain “the suspect was detained with fishing wire and a coconut” without it sounding insane?—when he hears laughter coming from the main area. He lifts his head to investigate and sees Steve talking with a guy who is equally tall, broad, and handsome—and if Danny’s not mistaken, that looks like a tattoo peeking out from under mystery guy’s sleeve. He also looks faintly familiar, but maybe it’s just in a generic hot guy way. He and Steve appear to be quite comfortable with each other, too, so if this is another Nick Taylor-esque situation, Danny and Steve are going to have  _words_. He better go check this out.

“Hey,” he says, poking his head out of his office.

“Danny, hi,” Steve says, waving him over with a wide smile. “Come meet Pete, he’s with SWAT. Pete, this is my partner, Danny, who I was telling you about.”

“Ah,” Danny says with a nod as he holds out his hand. That’s why Danny recognizes him. “Nice to meet you, man.” 

“You, too,” he says, smiling broadly. Then he turns that smile to Steve. “So I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

His hand curls around Steve’s forearm in a decidedly not-just-friends kind of way, and Danny’s eyes widen.

“You bet,” Steve says, and he tilts his head as he watches Pete leave.

Meanwhile, Danny seems to have lost the ability to breathe. _Retreat_ , _retreat_ , his brain is screaming at him, so he spins around and heads for the save haven of his office.

“Danny?” Steve calls out after him, but Danny just tosses a halfhearted wave over his shoulder.

“Paperwork! So much paperwork, I gotta get back to it.”

He holes himself up in his office, shuts the blinds—not like that will look suspicious or anything—and spends the afternoon alternating between fudging the truth in his report and staring into space. He thinks that, all things considered, he’s actually dealing with this pretty well, this dramatic change in his worldview.

Because Steve dates guys.

Which would normally be a no-big-deal kinda thing—because Danny is a modern, evolved man—but the situation is that he _also_ dates guys, which Steve doesn’t know.

It hasn’t been a big part of his life, really, only enough to casually call himself bisexual—in his own head, anyway. Steve, though…Steve has always been off-limits, despite all of his muscled glory, since he’s Danny’s partner, and most importantly, since he’s straight. But if it turns out that one of those barriers maybe isn’t so much of a barrier anymore…Danny has no idea what to do now.

Should he reveal his own predilection for dating guys sometimes?

Should he just say the hell with it and launch a full-blown body tackle toward Steve next time he takes his shirt off—which will probably be tomorrow?

Should he keep his secret and try to maintain the status quo at all costs?

The rational side of Danny’s brain knows he should really choose option C, or perhaps a combination of C with a little bit of A. But his damn dick can’t stop thinking about option B, and his poor brain is left spinning its wheels, trying to justify it.

He’d have to deal with the fact that if Steve wasn’t receptive, he would likely be out of a job. Not because Steve’s an asshole, but because he can’t imagine working with Steve without the easy, intimate rapport that they have now. And that’s a strong possibility—after all, just because a guy is into other guys doesn’t mean that he’s into _all_ other guys.

When they first met, Danny considered Steve to be particularly…flirty. He couldn’t help but notice some longing looks, lingering touches, and a swift, eager invasion of personal space. If Steve was a stranger, Danny would have thought he was coming onto him, he would’ve put money on it. But nothing ever happened, really, and Steve never showed any indication of being anything less than a straight guy with an easy comradery with his best friend.

But in light of this new information, maybe it was more than that? Maybe Steve was throwing out little signals, trying to see if Danny would catch one and toss it back. Or maybe he has no interest in Danny whatsoever, beyond a platonic partners sort of way, and is just naturally flirty.

God, now he’s arguing with himself. This is a new low.

Maybe he should just go talk to Steve and see what comes out of his mouth. He can already tell that’s a spectacularly terrible idea, but his brain is obviously not the one in charge here because he finds himself standing up anyway.

Danny peeks out of his office and is somewhat surprised to see the office humming along in its normal, quiet way. He rolls his eyes at himself—what the fuck was he expecting, some sort of apocalypse because Steve McGarrett now dates guys? Actually, when he puts it into words, that doesn’t sound so crazy. Danny shakes his head and heads for Steve’s office.

“So, you date guys now,” he blurts out. He winces—good job with the tact there, buddy—and shuts the door before taking a seat in front of Steve’s desk.

“Yeah,” Steve says, without looking up from the file he’s reading. “You seem a little flustered by this.”

“I—I am not _flustered_ ,” Danny protests. He can practically feel himself blushing, but fuck that shit. He is _fine_. Steve finally looks up at him, and Danny is surprised to see the mirth in his eyes. “Why do you look happy? That’s not so smart, babe, since for all you know, I could be a homophobe and be really bothered by this.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re not that kinda guy.”

Danny shrugs and concedes the point. At least Steve doesn’t think he’s an asshole, that’s nice. ”So again—what’s with the face? You’re grinning. Why are you grinning?”

“To tell you the truth, I was kinda hoping this would happen.”

“Um, excuse me? You were hoping _what_ would happen? And what exactly is _this_?” Danny says, gesturing at the space in between them.

“You, freaking out.”

“I am not—” Danny stops when he realizes that he’s yelling and instead takes a deep breath. He tries again, “I am not freaking out. I am completely calm. This wasn’t—I expected this, really.”

“Oh, you did?”

“No, of course not, you asshole!” he explodes. “Of course I’m freaking out. Why the fuck is that what you _wanted_? Do you just really love to disrupt every single corner of my life, is that like your hobby?”

“Why does the fact that I date guys disrupt every corner of your life?” Steve says with a shameless grin as he leans back in his chair and props his feet on the corner of his desk. “That’s giving me a lot of credit—unless, of course, you have something to tell me also.”

Danny scrubs his hands down his face. Fuck.

“Fuck you,” he says from behind his hands.

“You know—” Steve starts, and Danny points a finger at him.

“Do not finish whatever thought was going to come out of your mouth,” he says, glaring accusingly. “Seriously, just don’t.”

“It was going to be funny.”

“No, no, it was not, actually, I guarantee you that. And what the fuck, man, why didn’t you just tell me?”

Steve has enough sense to look a little abashed, as he stares down at his hands. “Look—it’s hard, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I really am. I was just afraid that it would screw things up between us.”

“Why now then? And really, you didn’t actually _tell_ me, more like you just kind of let me find out.”

“I thought that would be easier,” he says with a shrug.

“Easier how? I’m not following babe.”

“Well, worst case scenario, I’ve told you, and I get a date with a hot guy.” Danny bristles at that, but Steve soldiers on. “And best case would be, you know, this.”

Danny’s silent for a minute, blinking, and then it hits him. “You were hoping that I would find out, _freak out_ , and then, what, be inspired to confess my all-consuming love for you?” he asks, spreading his arms wide. The shameless look on Steve’s face pretty much confirms it.

“Well, I know how _I_ feel,” he says, folding his arms across his chest and sitting up a little straighter. “I just didn’t know how you felt. This seemed like the most efficient way to get what I wanted with the smallest chance of casualties.”

“Spoken like a true Navy man,” Danny says dryly. “So romantic.”

“Danno,” Steve starts, his eyebrows knotted together, but Danny keeps going.

“I see how it is—you were putting the entire impetus of this whole thing on me. That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, you hear me?”

“Aw,” Steve says, his grin wide. “You love me, you didn’t deny it.”

Danny exhales with a forceful snort and throws up his hands. Sure, Steve isn’t _lying_ , but he could least pretend to pay attention to the other shit Danny’s been saying. He stands up and rounds his desk with a grin that Danny finds very familiar—that’s his _blow-shit-up-and-hit-the-ground-running_ grin. Danny knows where _this_ is going.

“Ah, ah,” he says, holding up his hands as a shield between them. “I’m not kissing you in your office. You cancel your date with Mr. SWAT man, and maybe then we’ll talk. We’ll start with the appropriate way to tell someone that you like them.”


	25. Day 25 - Naked

“This _sucks_ ,” Danny decides, lolling his head against the back of the couch and glaring at Steve.

“Hey, don’t give me that look, this isn’t my fault,” he says as he gives Danny’s thigh a vicious poke with his bony knee.

Danny snorts. “Oh, somehow I doubt that. You probably did something to piss off some Hawaiian goddess, and she caused this,” he says, waving his arm to encompass the tropical storm waging right outside Steve’s window.

“I know you think I’m powerful, Danno, but I’m not that powerful,” Steve says dryly, and Danny just continues to glare at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Ooh, someone’s touchy.”

“It is fucking hot in here, it’s dark, and the power just went out. I am not in a great mood, that’s correct.”

“Let’s do something, then. I think there are some board games in a closet somewhere, let me go check,” Steve says as he gets up off the couch.

“ _Board games_? Don’t you at least have a deck of cards?”

“I lent them to you!” he yells down the stairs, and Danny winces. Oh, right.

A few minutes later Steve clomps back down the stairs, rustles in the kitchen for a little while, and finally comes back into the living room with his arms full. “All we got is Scrabble. And two six-packs of beer.”

“Okay,” Danny says, poking his lower lip out and nodding. “Okay, we can work with this.”

“And candles,” he says as he sets two candles on the side table and lights them with a match.

“Thank you,” he says primly. “All of my complaining isn’t worth anything if you can’t see the gestures that go with it.”

“Oh, I know,” Steve says with a grin. “You ready for me to beat you at Scrabble?”

Danny laughs, loudly. “Yeah, right, buddy, you’re going down. I play Grace all the time, and she’s a shark.”

“Good, then you’re used to losing,” Steve says. He situates himself on the floor by the short end of the coffee table, adjacent to Danny’s position still on the couch, and sets up the board. “Let’s make it interesting, huh?”

“Huh?” he says, frowning. “What, like with a bet?”

“Strip Scrabble,” Steve says, without missing a beat, and Danny blinks hard. Thanks to the shadows, Danny can’t really see his face to determine how serious he is about this. It seems a little dangerous, especially if there’s going to be alcohol involved, but…

“Sure, what the hell,” he says. Hawaii has clearly turned him insane—he would never play strip Scrabble during a tropical storm in Jersey, he’ll tell you that much. “How are we going to do this?”

“Uh, let’s see,” Steve says, clearly thinking. “How about 50 points per item of clothing.”

“Deal.” They each get set up, and Danny rolls his eyes at the way Steve makes a big show of turning away and covering his eyes as he picks his ties. “I’m going first.”

“Why?” Steve asks with a frown.

“Because I’m your guest, and it’s polite,” Danny says, grinning when Steve scoffs at that. “And I have a good word. Look, _rescue_.”

* * *

“ _Haole_ ,” Steve says, smirking proudly as he lies his tiles down on the board, and Danny groans.

“Oh, come on, you asshole. That’s not a real word.”

“It is in Hawaii,” he says with a laugh. “If you let me play it, I promise I’ll never call you that again.”

“Fine,” he says, sighing.

“Good because that puts me over 50 points. Take that shirt off, buddy.”

“Aw, you’re such a jerk,” Danny grumbles. “I wouldn’t have let you had that one if I’d known that.”

“Not my fault you weren’t keeping track of the points. Come on,” he says, waving his hand in Danny’s direction.

He yanks his shirt over his head with one hand and fires it at Steve’s face, enjoying the indignant splutter he gets in response.

* * *

“ _Cozy_!” Danny says. “54 points.”

“What?” Steve yelps as he leans over to look at the board. “How?”

“Triple word score, bitch,” he says, grinning shamelessly. “Those 54 points mean that I get your shirt. Strip, babe.”

Steve sighs mournfully, but Danny knows it’s all just an act—nobody who strips down as often as Steve does actually dislikes it. He grabs the hem of his shirt with both hands and squirms out of it, tossing it to the side. “There. You happy?”

“Very, actually,” he says, and it’s not a lie. The sight of Steve over there, leaning back on his arms with his tanned skin basically glowing in the candlelight, is a really distracting one.

Danny manages to drag his eyes away and is pretty proud of how well he controls himself. After a couple of turns in which neither of them get good words, he finally comes up with _wicker_ , which puts him over a hundred points. “You know what to do,” he says, gesturing at Steve until he stands up.

“What if I’m not wearing boxers?” he asks, pausing with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his shorts.

Danny opens his mouth, then closes it again and tilts his head. “I think you’re bluffing,” he says, finally.

“Your risk,” Steve says with a shrug. He doesn’t even bother with the button and the zipper, just pushes the shorts down those narrow hips, and Danny lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. To be pedantic about it, Steve doesn’t have boxers on, but he _is_ wearing a tight, black pair of boxer-briefs.

Danny averts his eyes.

Steve hems and haws over his next turn for what feels like a year, and Danny’s bored. He’s already got his next word picked out—unless Steve is a bitch and steals his space—so he lets himself lean back against the couch and relax. Letting his eyes settle on Steve is clearly a mistake because he can feel his entire body flush. He’s seen Steve in underwear before, and he’s obviously seen him shirtless, but this is the first time he’s had the privilege of both at once. There’s a _lot_ of skin to look at, and he’s even glistening a little bit because it’s so hot in here. Danny surreptitiously lowers his beer bottle below the table and lets it rest against the inside of his knee, so the icy wetness can cool him down.

“ _Pave_ ,” Steve says finally.

Aw, shit, that means he has to take off his shorts. Sure enough, Steve looks him pointedly up and down, so he unbuttons and unzips. He braces his back against the couch and lifts his ass to slide the shorts down and pull them off his legs.

The game gets a little more competitive then, and a couple turns later Danny plays _squeak_. “Uh, that puts me at 178,” he says as he tallies the points. They obviously haven’t talked about how far this game is going to go, so he has no idea what to do now that he theoretically has enough points to get Steve’s boxers. He lifts his gaze to meet Steve’s, and he nearly gasps at the look he sees there.

Steve lunges across the table, sending the board and the tiles flying, and full-on tackles Danny, hitting him lips first. Danny welcomes the weight and lies back immediately, pulling Steve on top of him. Their hips slot together nicely, so Danny pushes up against him as Steve begins a thorough exploration of his tonsils.

“You fucker,” Danny says, gasping against Steve’s lips and kissing him between every word. “You did this because you knew I was going to win.”

“I’ll blow you and we’ll call it even?”

“You’re on.”


	26. Day 26 - At Work

“You really stink, man,” Steve says, rolling down the window and pointedly shifting closer to it in his seat. Danny scowls at him but lowers his window also.

“This is all your fault, pal,” he says, gesturing toward his shirt. “If you hadn’t _pushed me_ , I would not have tripped and fallen into that pile of trash.”

Steve stifles a laugh, figuring it would not be appreciated right now. “At least we got the guy.”

“ _At least we got the guy, he says_ ,” Danny grouses. “You got to look like the hero, while I smell like old Chinese take-out.”

* * *

“Do you have an extra shirt I can wear?” Danny asks as they walk into HQ. “I used my spare one last week when you bled all over the one I wore to work.”

“Sure,” Steve says, heading for his office. He’s surprised when he turns around to see Danny standing there, by his couch, his fingers resting on the waistband of his pants. Jesus fuck, is he just going to disrobe right here, in Steve’s office? Steve hands him the shirt wordlessly, and just to be safe, he takes a seat behind his desk.

“So how do you think this guy is involved?” Danny asks as he yanks his shirt from his pants. “I’m pretty sure he is, considering that he ran from us and all.”

“I think, uh,” Steve says dumbly. It’s really hard for him to concentrate when Danny is standing right in front of his desk, looking deliciously rumpled in his untucked shirt. “He could be one of their dealers.

“Hmm,” Danny says. He tilts his head as he rolls his sleeves down, one by one, and slowly unbuttons the cuffs. “He seemed kinda tweaked out, though.”

“So?”

“Well, in these big organizations, the dealers usually don’t, uh, _indulge_ in their product very much. He doesn’t seem put-together enough to be a dealer.”

Steve nods. He doesn’t say it enough—or ever, to be honest—but he really appreciates Danny’s experience. His criminal knowledge, especially when it comes to organized crime and vice, is such a great counterpart to Steve’s familiarity with terrorists and human traffickers and the like. “That’s a good point,” he allows. “What do you think then?”

Danny has finally moved onto his tie, and Steve watches hungrily as he slowly picks apart the knot and slides the fabric from around his neck. He lays the tie carefully across the back of one of Steve’s chairs, and Steve can’t take his eye off of it. “I think he probably got more drugs than he could pay for, and they blackmailed him. That means he’ll be doing a lot of grunt work.”

“Like what?” Steve asks. Danny starts to unbutton his shirt from the top, going slowly. Steve’s favorite button, the one that’s about halfway down Danny’s chest and always looks like it’s about to pop open, goes easily.

“Who knows,” he says with a shrug. “Anything high-risk, most likely. Deliveries, high-visibility stuff. That’s probably why we caught him.”

“Do you think he’ll flip then?” he asks, and Danny pauses, fingering one of the buttons on his shirt. Steve wants to scream. God, this is a pure striptease—all they need is some music and some dimmer light. His cargo pants are _uncomfortably_ tight, and he has to sneak a hand down below his desk to do some readjusting. He’s not going to be able to stand up for a while.

“Probably,” Danny says. “If he gets a deal and we offer him protection.”

“I think the DA will probably go for that.”

“I mean, he might be a _real_ lackey, and in that case he won’t know very much. But at the very least he should be able to give us a few names.”

“Anything will help,” Steve says, though he really has no idea what he’s saying anymore. Danny has _finally_ finished unbuttoning his damn shirt, and he wriggles his shoulders to get out of it. He pulls it off his arms and tosses it onto the floor by the door.

“I’m throwing that shirt away,” he says, pointing at him, “and don’t think for a second that I won’t be expensing the cost of a new one because I will.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Steve says, but truthfully he would agree to literally anything while Danny’s standing in front of him, half-naked and covered in golden hair.

He grabs Steve’s t-shirt and pulls it over his head, emerging with ruffled hair as he tugs it down his torso. Steve isn’t sure which is better—Danny shirtless or Danny wearing _Steve’s_ shirt, which is tight around the shoulders and hangs down to his hipbones. And by better, he means worse, for his sanity and his ability to maintain rational thought.

“Steve? Hello?”

And his capacity for holding a conversation, apparently. Shit, he must’ve missed something. “Yeah?”

“Are you distracted because I took my shirt off?” Danny asks suddenly, and Steve blanches. Fuck.

“Uh, no,” he says, frowning inwardly. Damn, he’s usually better than this at lying.

Danny gives him the side-eye and rounds his desk, yanking at Steve’s chair and spinning it until Danny is leaning down into his space, with his hands braced on the arms of the chair. He flicks his gaze down to the not-unsubstantial bulge in Steve’s pants and then back up to his face. “Are you sure?”

“Um,” Steve says, finding himself at a complete loss for words. Because he can even admit that it’s pretty inappropriate to get an erection while watching your work partner change shirts _in the office_. He has no idea what to do and if he should be preparing himself for Danny to kiss him or to hit him. There’s a lot of fire in his eyes, and truthfully, he can’t really tell which one it’s going to be.

Danny inches closer, and Steve relaxes minutely—if Danny was going to hit him, he’d probably be moving back to wind up—but then he immediately freaks out because Danny is _leaning in_. He takes a deep breath and releases it on an involuntary moan when Danny kisses him, nudging his lips open with his tongue. Steve reaches a hand up to lock in his hair and uses his grip to yank Danny down into his lap.

“Finally,” Danny pulls back to say, and Steve falters.

“Wait, what?”

“You take your shirt off all the fucking time. Payback, baby.”


	27. Day 27 - At Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Luandachan, who requested another one with Steve and Grace! ♥

Danny closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and—don’t tell anyone—lets himself wallow for a tiny second in the cozy feeling of the sun on his face and the breeze lifting through his hair. Though he doesn’t like to share the sentiment publicly, sometimes Hawaii isn’t so bad. Especially when he’s stretched out on the grass—the lack of sand really goes a long way toward his happiness—and watching Steve teach Grace how to throw a football.

Grace had come home from school one day chattering on and on about football for some reason, and Steve happened to be right there to offer to show her the basics. Danny could have piped in, could have mentioned that he was perfectly capable of teaching her, but it’s much cooler coming from Uncle Steve. Danny’s a pretty magnanimous guy, all things considered, so he’ll let Steve have this one. Lord knows he’s already achieved peak hero status. In Grace’s mind, anyway. And maybe in Danny’s mind sometimes, too, but that’s neither here nor there.

And that’s how Danny finds himself sitting in the middle of Ala Moana Beach Park, watching Steve run around in that dumb Kukui shirt with the sleeves cut off. He’s already shown Grace the intricacies of how to catch the ball, gently cradling it against her chest, and now he’s demonstrating the tricks to throwing a spiral. Steve had shown up with a slightly smaller football, and his big hand wraps nearly around the whole thing.

Danny tries not to look.

“Come catch, Danno!” Grace yells, several minutes later, and he gets up obediently. 

He stands about five yards in front of her, holding out his hands, and gets a glare from Steve. “Come on, give your daughter a little credit.”

“Yeah, Danno, I can throw it far!” she says, her hands on her hips, and Danny laughs.

“Sorry, monkey!” he calls out, lifting his hands. He steps back several more yards and claps his hands, indicating that he’s ready. Grace rears back and throws a solid, if wobbly, spiraling pass right toward him. Danny catches it easily and raises his arms in celebration.

“I did it!” she yells, her own hands in the air, and Steve smacks her a high-five.

“Atta girl,” he says, and he grabs the ball smoothly in one hand when Danny lobs it back toward him. Danny watches as Steve drops down to one knee in front of Grace and shows her how to best grip the laces with her small hand.

God, this is terrible. He can barely handle Steve’s soft, earnest look on a normal day, and the effect of it seems magnified when it’s directed toward his daughter. He’s so fucking screwed. Steve is as high-energy and adrenaline-fueled as they come, yet he seems happy as a clam to be throwing a football around with Danny’s 11-year-old. That kind of dedication isn’t good for Danny’s heart, it just isn’t.

“Now you throw, Danno,” Grace says, breaking his reverie. “And I’ll catch it.”

“Do you need me to teach you how to throw a spiral?” Steve asks seriously, with a grin peeking at the edges of his mouth, and Danny elbows him in the side.

“Jerk,” he says under his breath, and Steve keeps that grin trained on him as he jogs backward to stand behind Grace.

Danny winds up, pumping his arm for emphasis, and lets the ball fly. He winces—it’s a little high, more for someone Steve’s height rather than Grace’s—but Steve lifts Grace into the air and she’s able to catch it. She cheers and Steve flips her over his shoulder before putting her back down on the ground. She’s laughing hysterically, and she demands that Danny throw it again.

The three of them play catch for a little while, until Steve says the magic words. “You guys want some shave ice?”

“Yes!” Grace says, jumping up and down.

“You got it,” Steve says as he heads off at a jog to the edge of the park.

“Pineapple, please!” she calls out, and he tosses a thumbs-up over his shoulder.

Danny drapes an arm around Grace’s shoulder and guides her to an open patch of grass that’s free from dogs and flying balls of various kinds.

“That was so fun,” she says as she drops down to the ground. “Uncle Steve is the best.”

“I’m glad you think so, monkey,” he says with a laugh.

Steve comes back a few minutes later, balancing three shave ices in his hand. “Pineapple for us cool people, and cherry for Danno,” he says, grinning, and Grace laughs.

Danny just scowls, but he takes the shave ice from Steve with a nod. Steve settles down on Danny’s left, matching his position with his legs stretched out and his weight on his arms behind him. Steve doesn’t move his right arm from where it’s resting against Danny’s, choosing instead to hold his shave ice in his left hand.

The shave ices are melting quickly in the heat, so they eat fast, and soon enough Grace is laughing hysterically as Steve makes funny faces and tries to get all the sticky spots on his face with his tongue.

“Ooh,” Grace says suddenly as she sits up and waves. “That’s Penelope, from school. Can I go say hi?”

Danny follows her gaze and notes an adult standing next to the young girl. “Go ahead. Just stay close, okay?”

“I will, Danno, thank you.”

Danny watches her go and luxuriates in the silence for a moment, reveling in the feel of Steve’s warmth next to him. “You’re really good with her,” he says.

“Really?” Steve asks immediately, turning to look at him more fully.

“Yeah,” he says. He knows that Steve needs a lot of reassurance when it comes to things like this, and he can’t stop himself from providing it. “Of course. She loves you, babe.”

Steve nods, looking satisfied and maybe a little shy. “I love her, too, you know.”

“I know,” Danny says simply. He’s thinking more things that go unspoken— _that’s part of the reason I love you_ —but he thinks Steve maybe knows that, too.

Grace is happy, it’s sunny, no one is shooting at him, he has no sand anywhere near his person—he feels, dare he say, happy? He knows that it will change pretty soon...Grace will cry, it’ll rain, people will shoot at him, he’ll get sand in his hair. But he can accept that this, right now, this is pretty great.

Something in the air, the sun maybe, is making him reckless, and since he has no idea what to do with all of this happiness floating around inside of him, he leans over even farther to plant a firm kiss on Steve’s lips.

Steve makes a startled noise but kisses back after a second, twisting his head to press back against Danny. The kiss is mostly chaste, considering that they’re in a very public place, but it’s most definitely satisfying, with a promise of something more.

“What was that for?” Steve asks.

Danny shrugs. He doesn’t look displeased—quite the contrary, actually—so he’s not that worried. “I dunno. Just happy, I guess.”

“You, happy?” Steve says, grinning.

“I know, I know. What can I say, the two of you bring it out in me.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and leans over to kiss him again, pressing their legs together from hip to ankle.

“You taste like pineapple,” Danny says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that a deal-breaker for you?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.

“I’m just, you know, registering my complaint. I think I’ll be able to get over it.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”


	28. Day 28 - At Home

Danny stumbles down the stairs and into the kitchen, blinking blearily and holding onto the wall for balance. “Do I smell bacon?”

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Steve says. “Nice hair.”

“Fuck you,” he says automatically, peering over Steve’s shoulder into the pan. “I thought you didn’t eat bacon.”

“Special occasions.”

“And what makes today a special occasion, pray tell?”

“Oh, you’re coming surfing with me today,” Steve says with a grin, and Danny groans, burying his face in his hands. Danny’s been staying with him for nearly a week, while his house gets tented for termites, and Steve has yet to get him in the ocean. That changes today.

“Why do you sound so sure of that?”

“Because I’m so nice that I made you breakfast—bacon _and_ eggs—and you’ll have to make it up to me somehow,” he says, carefully removing the strips of bacon from the pan and adding the beaten eggs to scramble them in the leftover grease.

“Can’t I just clean the bathroom or something?” Danny asks as he pours them each a cup of coffee.

“Sorry, I already cleaned them this morning. Guess that means it’s surfing, then.”

“You suck.”

“I know, I’m the worst,” Steve says dryly as he slides a plate in front of Danny and then sits across from him.

“Okay, _you_ might be the worst,” he says through a mouthful, “but this is delicious.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you, for real,” Danny says, after he washes down his previous bite with a swig of coffee. “And for everything, not just this. I know having me crash here cramps your style.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s been good,” he says, and he’s not just saying that to spare Danny’s feelings. Living with him has been quite smooth, much more so than last time and much to Steve’s surprise. It turns out that he doesn’t mind Danny in his space at all—he rather likes it, actually, especially when Danny decides to cook them a nice dinner, a skill Steve didn’t even know he had. “But it means that you owe me, and that means surfing.”

Danny sighs dramatically, and Steve knows he’s got him. “Fine, fine. But I gotta digest breakfast first.”

“Whatever you want, princess,” Steve says as he stands up and clears their plates.

* * *

Danny delays the inevitable for a couple hours, but eventually Steve manages to drag him outside. He’s even forced him into an actual pair of board shorts, which Danny capitulated to only after Steve told him how his normal jean shorts would get heavy with water and increase the possibility that Danny would wipe out, probably in embarrassing fashion.

“Okay, you ready?” he asks, rubbing his hands.

“Ah, ah, sunscreen first,” Danny says, and Steve sighs. “Don’t give me that look, mister. Some of us won’t be able to rely on our looks til we’re, oh, 90, and we need to try to prevent wrinkles. You want some?”

“No, I’m good. I’m guessing we won’t be out very long.”

“That would be correct. Could you do my back where I can’t reach?” he asks, twisting around and reaching back over his shoulder to hand Steve the bottle.

The lotion must be cool because Danny shivers when Steve touches him, and he forces himself to not let his hands linger. Living with Danny over the past week has been very illuminating—turns out when they’re under the same room, it’s much harder for Steve to ignore his attraction to the man.

More notably, it turns out that he doesn’t really _want_ to.

Steve manages to keep it together while they’re surfing, mostly because the water’s fairly cool. It’s not easy, though, with Danny half-naked, his hair wet and tousled. He’s actually a decent surfer even though he claims that he doesn’t like it, and Steve enjoys watching him ride waves more than just about anything. Plus, he’s out there just because Steve asked him to, and…well, he’s not really sure what to do with that.

* * *

Danny makes them sandwiches for lunch, and just like with any other meal, they do the dishes together when they’re done.

“Why aren’t we having sex?” he asks, after a minute, and Steve drops the plate that he’s in the middle of drying.

“Uh, what?” he says as he bends down to pick up the four big ceramic chunks now littering his floor.

“I said,” Danny says, looking down his nose at Steve on the ground, “why aren’t we having sex? We’re already practically married.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I will forgive you because you’ve never _been_ married, but this is exactly what it’s like when you _are_ married,” he says. “You cooked breakfast this morning, and I did the laundry. I went surfing with you, which I do not like, just to make you happy. We are currently doing the dishes together. For fuck’s sake, this morning you told me that we were almost out of toothpaste and asked me to stop by the store on the way home from work tomorrow. We have all the boring parts of marriage down, but we seem to be missing the fun part.”

“Uh, do you _want_ to be having sex?” Steve asks, which is the first thing that pops into his head.

Danny just rolls his eyes with a snort and closes the small space between them, standing on his toes to press a kiss to Steve’s lips. Steve makes a vaguely embarrassing noise in response, one that he will deny to his dying day, and twists them so that Danny is pressed against the counter. Danny’s hands are still damp from doing the dishes, and the coolness of them pressed against Steve’s bare skin underneath his shirt makes him shiver.

He slides both hands down Danny’s back to his ass and although he growls in protest, Steve does it anyway, just lifts him right up onto the counter next to the sink so that their heads are level. “Not a girl here,” Danny says, his voice rasping. But his mouth moves eagerly down Steve’s jaw and he presses against Steve when he moves closer in between his legs, so he can’t be that upset about it.

“I _know_ that,” he says, squeezing the thick weight of Danny’s cock through his shorts and making him jump. Danny still tastes salty from the ocean, and Steve laps it up eagerly. “But you _are_ short, and my neck hurts.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Danny mumbles against his lips, and Steve grins.


	29. Day 29 - Saving the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot of the S5 finale was…uh, let’s go with _notveryrealistic_ , so at least here’s a different ending! ♥

“You know this might not work, right?” Steve says, shouting to be heard over the thump of the chopper blades, and Danny rolls his eyes.

“Of course, you asshole!” he yells back. “But we didn’t really have a choice, did we?”

“How much longer?”

“60 seconds,” Danny says, after shooting a look down at the fucking _nuke_ between his legs. Seriously, what the hell. Today is the worst.

Steve makes some sort of weird growl-like noise, and before he even knows what’s happening, Danny is being thoroughly kissed. He gasps into it and pushes back against Steve, hard and wet and dirty for a few seconds before he sits back because Steve is _flying a helicopter_ , and he should probably have his eyes open while doing that.

“Now, Danny, now!” he shouts, and Danny shoves the damn thing out the chopper door as fast as he possibly can. He holds on tight as Steve whips the chopper around, and he braces himself for the explosion that he knows is coming. They have to fight for balance, and he can hear Steve cursing up a storm, but after several harrowing seconds, the ride seems to balance out.

“Holy fuck,” Danny whispers, taking deep breaths in a vain attempt to slow his racing heart. “Did we do it? Are we okay?”

Steve’s laughing maniacally, and Danny can’t stop himself from joining in, feeling it bubble out of himself, unbidden. “I think we did, buddy.”

The ride back to Oahu is eerily silent, and Danny’s pretty busy trying to prevent a panic attack. He tries to ground himself—pays attention to the roar in his ears, the smell of fresh sweat, the rough fabric of his seat—and lets himself think about what happened a few minutes before. Not the nuclear explosion that they narrowly avoided, but the _kiss_. God.

He definitely gets the whole _we might be about to die_ thing and all, but _whoa_. What the hell?

Steve lands the helicopter, smooth and sure, and Danny feels a strong wave of relief wash over him, strong enough to make him weak in the knees. He stumbles for a second as he gets out of the chopper, but Steve’s right there, slinging an arm around Danny’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he says tiredly. “Let’s go.”

Danny nods and lets himself be led to Steve’s truck. He’s not sure what he had been expecting upon their arrival, but it sure as hell wasn’t _nothing_. But no one’s there, all seems calm, nothing about Oahu seems to be any different. It’s spooky, almost, especially considering how close he and Steve had come to death and how much his life has changed in the past 15 minutes.

“The wedding has been postponed til tomorrow,” Steve reports, looking down at his phone. “Everyone is dealing with…well, all of this. Let’s just go home, okay?”

Danny nods again, shakily, and hauls himself up into the passenger seat of Steve’s truck. Their silence continues on the drive, and Danny can’t do anything except for look at the scenery and try not to think about how close they were to all of it being _gone_.

Steve parks the truck and leads them inside, while Danny still feels weirdly hollow and muted and empty. But the second that Steve makes that noise again, shoves him up against the wall, and kisses him, Danny feels himself being filled up and made whole. It looks like this _we might be about to die_ thing has morphed into an _affirmation of life_ thing, and Danny can’t find it within himself to be upset about that. He relaxes his jaw, lets his mouth fall open, and wraps his arms around Steve’s back to haul him closer.

Steve exhales against him and Danny takes a second to breathe deeply, pressing their foreheads together. “God, Danny,” he says, lowly enough that Danny has to strain to hear him. “We just—I mean, we really almost…”

Danny lets out a noise of his own, maybe halfway between a sob and a whimper, and kisses Steve again, softer than before and sweet enough to make Danny’s own heart ache. “Yeah, babe, I know.”

Steve holds him up against the wall with his weight, running his hands through Danny’s hair as he bites at his neck, and Danny can feel the tension thrumming through him. He yanks Steve’s head up again and stands up on his toes to lessen the impact of their height difference, to make it easier for him to stay right here and kiss Steve for as long as he’ll let him.

He whines into Steve’s mouth when he feels them moving, but he shuts up real quick when he finds out that it’s just to the couch. He lets himself fall back and yanks Steve on top of him, relishing the life-affirming comfort of his solid weight on top of him. Steve gets their limbs arranged, braces himself on his elbows, and just goes to town on Danny, kissing him harder than he’s ever been. He hooks a leg over Steve’s calf to hold him there and fights back as hard as he can, thrusting up and attacking Steve’s mouth frantically until they both have to pull away for air.

Danny feels panicked again, right on the edge of something, but this time it’s on the edge of something _good_ , and he doesn’t know what to do with it except pant in Steve’s ear and shove his hands up his shirt to rest on his shoulder blades. Steve seems just as wrecked, moving his mouth all over to latch onto Danny’s pulse point and suck on his ear lobe, and Danny can only grunt in response. He’s greedy as his hands move, down Steve’s back and up to his shoulders and his neck and back down to his ass, and he’s trying to absorb every little thing that he possibly can, though it feels impossible because all of his senses are on overload and are threatening to short out. Finally Danny breaks through the haze when Steve presses a kiss to his cheek, of all things, and something in him snaps.

“Oh, my god,” he says, wrenching his lips away from Steve and shoving him to the side. He covers his eyes with his hands and takes a deep breath.

“What?” Steve asks, and Danny can _feel_ him tense up. He opens his eyes, and sure enough, aneurysm face, right on cue. “Are you freaking out?”

“Of course I’m freaking out!” he explodes. “I’m breaking the rule! That’s what they say, that’s like the number one rule—don’t stick it in the crazy. And yet, here I am.”

Steve visibly relaxes in front of him, and Danny belatedly realizes that he probably thought Danny’s freak-out was about him being a _guy_. Steve grins and reels him back in. “Oh, well then I’ll just stick it in you instead, we’ll be fine,” he says, looking very proud of himself, and Danny groans.

“We will be fighting about that later.”

“Looking forward to it.”


	30. Day 30 - Saving Each Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks…this is it! Thank you SO MUCH for all of the support and all of the ♥. I wish I could give all of _you_ kudos! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the last chapter, and happy holidays! See you next year. ☺

Steve has taken the seat facing the door, of course, so that he can keep an eye on the comings and goings of the bar, and his eyes widen when he sees Danny walk in, accompanied by a beautiful brunette. His date, Carol, has clearly noticed the lapse in his attention and also turns her head to look in that direction.

“Sorry,” he says, chuckling. “That guy who just walked in is my partner.”

“Oh, no problem. You should say hi,” she says with a smile.

He smiles back at her and half-stands in his seat, waving until he catches Danny’s attention. He says something to his date, his hand low on her back, and they wind their way through the tables toward Steve.

“Carol, this is Danny,” Steve says, gesturing between them. “Danny, Carol.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says warmly, shaking her hand. “This is Paula.”

Steve smiles at her—she’s a little shorter than Danny and fills out her red dress nicely. “Didn’t know you had a date tonight, buddy.”

Danny laughs and sweeps a hand toward him. “Ditto. Guess great minds think alike when it comes to restaurants, huh?”

\--

Steve keeps an eye on Danny—it’s like he has a type of unconscious radar or something, he has no idea—and therefore immediately notices when Danny gets up about 15 minutes later and heads for the bathroom in the back of the bar. Steve doesn’t like the look of the slumped line of Danny’s shoulders, so he excuses himself politely to Carol and follows him.

He steps through the door, notes that the room is empty, and spots Danny washing his hands. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says in surprise, lifting his head to catch Steve’s eye through the mirror. “What the hell, did you follow me in here?”

Steve shrugs. “You looked upset. Everything okay?”

“Ugh,” he says, turning around and rolling his eyes. He reaches for a paper towel and aggressively rubs his hands dry. “Paula is the _worst_. If this bathroom had a window and if I wasn’t so much of a gentleman, I’d be long gone by now.”

“Yikes,” Steve says with a wince. “What’s the problem?”

“She’s rude, she seems kind of cruel, and I’m _pretty_ sure she’s racist,” Danny says, looking disgusted. “I mean, yeah, she’s gorgeous, but I’m about 15 years too old for that to be the only thing I care about, you know?”

Steve nods. “What are you gonna do then?”

“I dunno,” he says, sighing. “Grin and bear it, I guess. Just try to eat really fast and get this over with as soon as possible.”

“Or,” Steve says, his eyes lighting up as an idea comes to him, “I can save you.”

“How are you going to _save_ me?” Danny says, looking skeptical.

“I’ll come over and tell you that we have a case and that we have to go, right away,” he explains.

“But how are you going to conjure up a case?”

“I’ll just text Kono and ask her to call me.”

Danny laughs and nods, but then he stops. “Wait, no, what about your date? Carol, right? She seems nice.”

“She is nice,” Steve says with a shrug. “But I’ll just tell her we need a rain check, no problem.”

“Are you sure?” Danny asks, frowning.

“Absolutely,” he says, and he means it—he doesn’t even have to give it a second thought.

“You’re insane, but okay. Did Carol drive herself?” he asks, and Steve nods. “Good, Paula did, too.”

“Okay, go,” Steve says, making a shooing motion toward the door. “I’ll come get you in a few minutes.”

He lets Danny go out first and then follows a minute later after texting Kono. _Call me in 10 minutes. Please, I’ll explain later_. He returns to his table, makes small talk with Carol, and sure enough, right on time, his phone rings and he digs it out of his pocket. He looks at the display—thanks, Kono.

“God, I’m so sorry, but I should really take this,” he says to Carol, giving her his most rueful smile. “McGarrett.”

“You must be on a bad date,” Kono says, and he has to press his lips together to keep from smiling.

“Uh-uh,” he says, pretending that it’s the governor on the phone. “Where?”

“This is _so_ cliché,” Kono complains. “Why didn’t you make Danny do this? This is not in my job description, you know.”

“Okay, thanks. We’ll be there soon,” he says. He hangs up on Kono, ignoring her thinly-veiled threats, and turns apologetic eyes toward Carol. “I am so sorry, but I actually have to go. That was work, and Danny and I need to get to a crime scene.”

“Oh,” Carol says, frowning. “That’s unfortunate.”

He _does_ feel bad for doing this, but he’s Danny’s partner and he’ll do anything to help him out, even from a bad date. Steve gets up from his chair, pulls his wallet out, and puts enough cash on the table to cover their bill. “Rain check?” he says, taking Carol’s elbow as she stands up, and she nods.

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Carol,” he says, honestly grateful. “I really feel terrible about this.”

“No problem. Good luck with your case,” she says, and she offers her cheek when Steve leans down.

He watches her go with a sigh and then makes his way toward Danny’s table.

“Hi, Danny,” he says, shooting a tight smile toward Paula. “I’m so sorry to bother you guys, but we have a case and we need to go.”

Paula looks pissed, but Steve can’t really scrounge up much sympathy for her. He also doesn’t care to hear her reaction, so he moves toward the door and waits for Danny to finish up.

“Okay,” Danny says, eyes wide, as he and Steve walk outside a couple minutes later. “Whew. Glad that’s over.”

Steve laughs and scans the parking lot until he spots the Camaro. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, but after he pulls onto the street, he has no idea where to go. “So what are we going to do now?”

“Uh, I’m still hungry, actually. We didn’t get to eat.”

“Same here. You wanna just go back to the bar?”

Danny laughs and nods. “Sure, why not.”

Steve pulls a U-turn and feels a strong sense of déjà vu as he walks into the bar again, this time with Danny by his side instead of Carol. Danny suggests a game of pool, and they make their way toward the back.

“Beer?” he asks, and Danny nods.

“Yeah. I’ll go get ‘em,” he says. “It’s the least I can do, considering that you missed an opportunity to get laid just to save me from a bad date.”

“Well, when you put it that way…,” Steve says, and Danny laughs.

“I’ll be right back.”

Steve watches him go and replays Danny’s words in his head—he really hadn’t thought about it that way. He met Carol when he was out surfing last weekend, and he asked her out because he really does want to date someone, he wants to have someone in his life in that way. And she seemed perfect—beautiful, funny, smart, sweet. So why the hell was Steve so eager to ditch her to hang out with Danny? And why is he looking forward to an evening with Danny way more than he had been anticipating a date with a great woman? A great woman who he probably could have hooked up with, as a matter of fact.

Huh.

If he were talking about someone else, his advice would be obvious: just date Danny instead. It’s _himself_ , though, and he’s never been…inclined that way before. But is this the correct solution, right in front of him and staring him in the face? He thinks about it for a second, and he quickly comes to the alarming conclusion that he would rather hang out with Danny than with _anyone_. So that part is easy. But could he ever think of Danny in a romantic way?

Steve catches sight of Danny making his way through the crowd, and he shakes himself, trying to get rid of those thoughts. That seems like a dangerous path to start down on, a path filled with twists and uncertainty that would probably just lead to heartbreak.

Danny’s reached him now and is looking at him a little strangely, but Steve just smiles and helps him with everything that he’s carrying. “I got two beers, some wings, and some spring rolls, just for you, babe,” he says.

Steve reaches for a spring roll and smiles, happy because Danny remembered that he likes them. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now come on, let me beat you at pool.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Steve says with a snort. “I’m pretty good.”

“But you’re not as good as me,” Danny counters immediately.

“How the hell would you know that? You’ve never seen me play.”

“Because I just know that I’m really good,” he says. “If you’re so confident, then let’s bet on it.”

“If I win, I get to take you out,” Steve says quickly, pushing the words out of his mouth before he can think about it too hard. But he squares his shoulders and nods, confident that he’s made the correct decision. He’s almost 40, and if the answer to _everything_ seems to be right in front of him then he’s going to grab it with both hands, previous knowledge of his sexuality be damned.

Danny looks predictably shell-shocked. “What did you just say?”

“If I win,” he says slowly. “I get to take you out. Like on a date.”

“O- _kay_ ,” he says, nodding, and Steve thinks he should be more surprised than he is that Danny is going along with this so easily. Maybe that’s another clue. “And what if I win?”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” Danny says, a little smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll think about it, then.”

“While we’re playing?” he asks, crossing his arms. “That goes against basically every rule about making a bet.”

“Take it or leave it, that’s my final offer,” Danny says, his eyes skittering over Steve’s chest and his biceps. Does he always do that? Or is Steve just starting to notice?

“Fine. But I get to break.”

“Be my guest,” Danny says, taking a swig of his beer as he gestures with his other hand.

Steve racks the balls carefully and then breaks, smirking when one ball immediately falls into a pocket. That’s all he manages, though, even with his second shot, so he reluctantly steps back and lets Danny have his turn.

Steve has _seen_ Danny, obviously, but for the first time, as Danny sets up his shot, he lets himself really look. Danny may be short, yeah, but he sure is built nicely. Broad shoulders, trim waist, and that ass that even Steve has to admit that he’s noticed once or twice. His normal button-down stretches pleasantly across his back, and he’s wearing jeans, for once, which are tight enough to emphasize his strong thighs. Steve has hugged Danny before, of course, but he wonders what it would feel like if he hugged him from behind, with that ass pressed against the cradle of his hips.

“Babe?” Danny asks, and from the way he’s saying it, it’s not the first time. Steve raises his gaze to Danny’s face and is slightly mortified by the knowing smirk that he sees there. “Your turn.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, flustered. _Fuck_ , he can even feel that his cheeks are red. He takes a look at the table—shit, how had Danny managed to sink two balls without Steve even noticing? Oh right, he was consumed with thoughts about his ass. Steve shakes his head and studies the table further to set up his shot. He bends over and immediately blushes again. God, it’s like he’s _presenting_ himself or something, and he swears he can feel Danny drilling a hole into his back with his eyes.

Somehow Steve manages to keep his shit together enough to keep the game close, but Danny is as good as advertised and eventually he sinks the eight-ball before Steve can.

“All right,” Steve says, spreading his arms. “You won, fair and square. What’s the verdict on the bet?”

Danny drains the end of his beer and pauses for a long second. “I’m going to _let_ you take me out.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t even try to stop the small smile that’s starting to spread across his face.

“Yeah,” Danny says with a firm nod. “Think you can handle that?”

“I'd love to try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might continue this one, also! I want to see how these two goofs fumble through it as they start to date. ☺
> 
> Edited to add: [Now with a sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5952388/chapters/13681972)!


End file.
